


The past was the past, and it didn't interest him.

by Cockbite (personalized_radio)



Series: Assassinations and Feelings [8]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF, The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Assassinations and feelings, Fake Chop Au, Heavy Rain-inspired, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, james finally gets some pov how exciting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-09 15:39:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 83,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11672076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/personalized_radio/pseuds/Cockbite
Summary: As far as James was concerned, what someone did before they met him was none of his business and, honestly, if it wasn’t affecting him then it still wasn’t his business and he didn’t want to know. He had a lot going on; side projects and Fake Chop and keeping up relations with Cockbite, and he didn’t need someone that he just barely cared about filling up what little space he had left in his memory with worthless information. He didn’t care, he wasn’t going to pretend to care, and he didn’t want to care.This approach worked out for him, most of the time. There was a select group of about ten people he cared about, and he had enough trouble keeping track of them. He liked to know what was going on with them, but the things they didn’t tell him weren’t his business, either, and if they didn’t want him to know, then he wasn’t going to push.





	1. The Rat

**Author's Note:**

> hi friends <3
> 
> ok so it turns out that when i dont post things i dont hold myself accountable and i might actually take forever to write this if i dont motivate myself so what im gonna do is like as i finish each chapter ill post the previous chapter! so i have chapter 2 finished now and ill post it once I finish chapter 3 :)
> 
> i.....hope u guys like this. its gonna get weird.  
> ps PHOE MADE A M A Z I N G GLITCH EDITS FOR EACH CHAPTER GET H Y P E D MY DUDES THEYRE ALL A M A Z I NG
> 
> im gonna go ahead and let u guys kno ahead of time that if it wasn't for [kenn](http://allrighthello.tumblr.com/), [tay](http://nealinator.tumblr.com/), and [phoenix](http://amanduh-hess.tumblr.com/) then id never get anything done so thank u guys for being so kind to me i dont deserve u
> 
> you can find me at on [on Tumblr](https://cockbite.tumblr.com/) if you'd like! I post fake/gta!au stuff :)

The past was the past, and it didn't interest him.

As far as James was concerned, what someone did before they met him was none of his business and, honestly, if it wasn’t affecting him then it _still_ wasn’t his business and he didn’t want to know. He had a lot going on; side projects and Fake Chop and keeping up relations with Cockbite, and he didn’t need someone that he just barely cared about filling up what little space he had left in his memory with worthless information. He didn’t care, he wasn’t going to pretend to care, and he didn’t _want_ to care.

This approach worked out for him, most of the time. There was a select group of about ten people he cared about, and he had enough trouble keeping track of them. He liked to know what was going on with them, but the things they didn’t tell him weren’t his business, either, and if they didn’t want him to know, then he wasn’t going to push.

There was his mom, who had obviously raised him and who he took an interest in because he owed that to her at the very least; and there was Joe, his best friend and arguably the only person he knew everything about because he’d been there for most of it and the same could be said about him for Joe; Jakob, who he’d found and taken under his wing because something about the kid reminded him of Joe; Brett, who he’d met years ago now but who he relied on pretty hard, and Lindsey, who had taken over helping Brett keep them alive and in business; Trevor, who he’d met through Aleks and had, admittedly, not been very fond of at first but who had grown on him; Anna and Asher, loyal and good at their jobs and who James had become fond of in the year and some change that they’d been working together; Aron, who did his job and did it well and took some major hits when they asked him to; and Aleks, who...well. It was Aleks. He couldn’t really put Aleks into any category.

There were others, of course. People he liked and people he respected and even a few people who fit both of those categories, who he didn’t mind hearing from now and then; most of Cockbite and his old friends from back in the day, like Felix when he wasn’t trying to recruit him. But the point was that James didn’t have an interest in things that didn’t directly concern him, and that worked for him.

Most of the time.

-

“It’s okay,” James wrinkled his nose, looking around at the warehouse, “Kind of small. We’re looking for something a little bigger.”

“For the base, sure,” Joe crossed his arms, “But this would be a good place to put some product. Fakehaus was looking to team up on that deal.”  
“I dunno,” James frowned, “We’ve just settled into our niche, you think it’s already time to expand into a whole new field?”  
“That’s something you need to talk to Aleks and Brett about,” Joe shrugged, “But, just sayin’, this place would be perfect,” He held his arms out, framing one side of the warehouse with the thumb and index finger of both hands in the shape of a box, “Processing here...storage and maintenance here…Transportation here...Just two hours away from Fakehaus, so they can keep an eye on it and we send the goods this way. We’re lookin’ for Aleks, but I don’t see why we don’t actually work on that deal with them. It would be good business, bring in a little more money.”

“I see it,” James agreed thoughtfully, making a mental note of Joe’s suggestion. It had been a while since the two of them had been on a scout like this but they were looking for a bigger base of operation for their newest supply lines out of Kenya and Malaysia. The new line was for some beauties that Aleks had been nutting over for months now and James and Lindsey had put a lot of effort into opening it up as a surprise for his birthday in two months. James always forgot how so very _fun_ it was to open a new line, though; hours of hunting for the right location, the right employees, the right equipment. That wasn’t even taking into account that this was all a secret from his fucking business partner. As far as Aleks knew, he and Joe were taking a trip to talk business with Bruce over a potential team up between them. He was lucky Brett was in on it or they never would have got it done as quickly as they were.

Still, it was the least James could do after the _pirate_ incident a few months ago, so he didn’t complain. Too much. Only to Joe.

“I’ll talk to them about it. Good idea, Joe.”

“Any time,” Joe tipped an imaginary hat at him and then left him to go inspect the side rooms they hadn’t yet looked at while James made his way over to the transportation area, where the trucks would be bringing in the product. He was looking at the loading bay when his phone rang and, without bothering to look at the number, he hit accept and pressed it to his ear.

“This better be good,”

“I’ve got a problem,” Aleks said in response and his voice was casual, almost joking, but the panic underneath was clear.

“What did you do?” James sighed, already turning around to head back to the car. He’d call Aron later to have him secure the place.

“I’ve been kidnapped.”

James froze. “What?”

“I came home and they grabbed me.”

“Do you know where you are?” James asked, his mind already beginning to race.  
“No,” Aleks laughed, high pitched and a little hysterical, “They dragged me into some fucking murder van and we drove for…maybe two hours? I tried to count but -” but Aleks didn’t think well when he was panicking like this. “They stopped at this...house or something. I dunno, I was bagged while they brought me in and then one left so I knocked the other one over, grabbed his phone and broke my zip ties and ran. They’re gonna find me soon, James, I couldn’t get out - I can hear them coming. They’re checking the rooms and they’re gonna find me.”

“Jesus,” James inhaled sharply, “Don’t panic, Aleks. What do you know? Tell me about the van.”  
“It was white, no windows, but that’s all I saw. And they’re bounty hunters,” Aleks said and god _damnit_ , what was _with_ Aleks and _bounty hunters_ , “They didn’t say names but there are at least two and, _shit_ , James, they’re taking me back to Russia,”  
“No, they ain’t,” James snapped, “We’re coming to get you, Aleks,”

“James,” Aleks said his name and he’d lost the casual tone, fear making his voice shake, “James, I can’t go back to fucking Russia,”

“You _will not_ be leaving the goddamn county, Aleks, let alone the country,” James snarled, “Hang up and call Trevor. He’ll track the phone -”  
“No time,” Aleks whispered, dropping his voice. Behind him, James could hear something slamming against wood, indistinguishable words being yelled, “They found me. I should have called Trev, but I couldn’t think of calling anyone but you,”

“You’re an idiot,” James hissed at him and then yelled, “Joe! Joe, damn it, get in the car, we have to go!”  
“James,” Aleks said again, voice small, “You fucking _swear_ that you’ll find me?”

“Aleksandr, I’m going to hunt you down and skin you alive for getting fucking kidnapped! You live twenty minutes from our fucking base!”  
“ _Promise me_ ,” Aleks, obviously in no mood for James’ threats, repeated, sounding so close to a breakdown that it made James’ heart skip a beat,” James, don’t let them take me, fucking _please_ , I need to know that you’re coming for me.”

“Aleks,” James dropped his voice, looked at his free hand, tried to ignore that it was shaking because he’d never heard Aleks so close to tears in his life, “I swear to God that we’ll find you. _I_ will find you. I won’t stop looking until you’re home, okay?”

“I should have told you everything,” Aleks admitted and then there was the sound of splintering wood, of angry yelling and a - _Taser_? “I should have told you everything years ago, I’m sorry, take care of my girls and, fuck, I’m so fucking sor -” And then there was just _screaming_ and the clattering static of the phone smashing into the ground.

“Aleks!” James shouted, helpless, and _knew_ that scream - he’d been with Aleks for nearly every major injury he’d received for the last half decade, he so intimately knew that scream that it made his throat close up, “Aleks!”

The line went dead.

He hurled the phone with a yell of rage, and Joe slid around the corner in time to catch it with a yell of his own.

“James! What the fuck?”  
“Some bounty hunters took Aleks,” James started for the door, “We need to _go_ ,”

“Some - what?” Joe asked but, to his benefit, kept easy pace with James as they disappeared out of the warehouse and into the parking lot, where the car was waiting.

“He’s been kidnapped,” James yanked his door open and collapsed into the seat, slamming his door and starting the car while Joe scrambled to get inside. His door was barely closed before James was peeling out of the parking lot and into the empty street leading into the warehouse field.  

“I’ll call Aron,” Joe pulled his phone out and dialed something then pressed it to his ear while James concentrated on not losing his mind and getting them into a car wreck. He cut off at least two angry drivers turning onto a main road and then called Trevor.

“Hey,” Trevor answered, sounding worried, but James was already talking over him.

“I want the security footage from Aleks’ apartment,” He started, “And the roads around the complex; You’re looking for a white van, no windows, and two or more guys. Aron should be trying to get the GPS on his phone but you focus on that fucking van. Find it, follow it. Don’t lose it.”

“I won’t,” Trevor said and he didn’t sound unsure at all, “I’ll find him.”

“Good. Put Anna on.” James kept his eyes on the road and forced himself to calm the fuck down. His heart was fast, his mouth dry, and his fingers beat a steady tap-tap-tap rhythm against the wheel every time they got stuck behind anyone as he drove but he wasn’t taking pot shots to clear the street and he wasn’t screaming at anyone so it was a win in his books.

“What do you need,” Anna’s voice came on, skipping the pleasantries. There was a reason James liked her.

“You and Asher go to his apartment. He’s got shit there, if they’re after us then they may have taken it. Take all of it and bring it back. Nothing sensitive can be there if someone comes looking.”

“Will do, boss,” Anna agreed, “Nothing sensitive, look for clues.”  
“And grab his goddamn animals,” James honked fanatically at a red Lexus that tried to cut him off and shot the driver the bird as he zoomed past, “Take them to my place with Ein.”

“We will,”

James hung up without saying goodbye and tossed his phone on the dash as he came to a hard halt at a red light. He looked at Joe while he impatiently waited, tapping the foot he wasn’t driving with against the bottom of the car, “Anything?”

“Aron’s got his GPS records now,” Joe responded, staring at his phone in concentration as he typed something out, “He left the office, got to his apartment and the phone hasn’t left since,”

James punched the wheel in frustration, inching forward. They were in a traffic jam now, just his _fucking luck_. He was going to fucking raze LA to the ground once this was over.

“James, you’re shaking.”  
“No, I’m not,” James snapped, forcing his hands tighter around the wheel so they would stop.

“We’re going to find him, man,” Joe put his hand on James’ shoulder, “Keep it together, okay?”  
“We’d better fucking find him,” James reached out and grabbed his phone from the dash, pulling up a number and hitting call, “Or _someone_ is going to pay. They used a goddamn Taser on him, Joe, if they killed him -” he cut himself off, when a familiar voice picked up on the second ring.

“James?”

“Hey, Felix. I need a favor.”

-

Aside from a small flower shop down the street of Aleks’ apartment that caught the edge of the van driving away, there was no video of the kidnapping. Someone had cleared out the security tapes at the complex - and shot the guard who had been watching them - and had somehow managed to grab the tapes from the other two cameras that may have caught anything.

On top of that, no one knew _anything_. James had exhausted every avenue he’d built up aside from two - his last resort and his _last resort_ \- but no one knew where Aleks was; there weren’t even any hits out on him. Felix had called around, but even his sources couldn’t dig anything up aside from the old hit that Rust took.

Joe had come to check on him but James had sent him away an hour ago, unable to even look his best friend in the face. He felt calm and a mess at the same time, like he had tangles of emotions under his skin, only being held back by the thought that James _needed_ to be calm so he could keep calling people. One number, the next, the next, on and on until he’d reached the last of his contact lists. They were all people he could trust, people who wouldn't spread around that Aleks was missing, and none of them knew a fucking _thing_.

He would call Geoff, then. This was what the Cockbites were for - when things went wrong, he could call Geoff and the Fake AH and they would help. It bit at him that he would be exposing their underbelly, that his partner was _gone_ and they were vulnerable because James was a fucking failure and he couldn’t _think straight_ , but he _had to find Aleks._ And if Geoff couldn’t help, well...there was a reason he kept Jordan’s number up-to-date. The Hub would have to have _some_ connections from their prime that James didn’t, maybe even some that Cockbite didn’t have.

He stared at his screen - the wall of call history with all the strings of numbers and the call times, _wasted time_ , and tried to get his thoughts in order. All he could think of was Aleks, though; he didn't beg often. Off the top of his head, James could really only think of the time Aleks had begged him to grab his hand - and, even then, it had been more of a furious demand that had shocked James into following. But he’d begged James to find him - and here James was, with no leads and turning to Geoff or, God forbid, _the Hub_. One of the few people he cared about needed him and he was failing.

In the dark parts of his mind, where he didn’t want to acknowledge the thoughts that pooled there, he wondered if that morning would be the last time he ever saw Aleks alive. They’d spent the night at James’ place; he’d woken up to Aleks nearly sideways on the bed, his head pillowed on James’ stomach, snoring and sprawled out with Ein nestled in the crook of his arm and shoulder. He’d spent...at least an hour just watching, wrapping his brain around the image and letting it settle. He’d liked it, had thought _I’m used to this now_ , and then he’d flicked Aleks on the nose so he jolted up in surprise and cackled on his way into the kitchen to cook breakfast, Ein yipping at his feet and Aleks swearing at him.

He wondered if hearing Aleks choking out how sorry he was before he was Tased would be the last time he heard his voice. He wondered if Aleks was already dead, his heart under too much electric stress or if the bounty hunters had an express line out of the country and they were already in the air or on the sea.

He shook his head, ripped a hand through his hair - down, he’d lost the tie at least an hour ago - to shove it out of his face and pulled up Geoff’s number in a new text draft. Geoff was always too busy to take calls but he read every text he got - or Gavin did, at least.

He was in the middle of composing what he wanted to say when Brett walked into the room holding a letter.

“Get out,” James grunted, not taking his eyes off the phone, but Brett just set on the table opposite him and deposited the letter in his lap, _James_ written across the front, “Brett, I’m trying to fucking find Aleks right now, I don’t have time for this!”  
“Listen up, Fucko,” Brett snapped back, “This came in the mail. Don’t you think it’s a little odd that someone hand delivered you a letter hours after someone fucking kidnapped Aleks? Aron said it was safe. Open it.”

James, viciously and with little care, did.

“What the _fuck_ is this?” James sneered, pulling a folded piece of paper roughly from the envelope and unfolding it with jerky motions.

“Is it a ransom?” Brett asked tensely, his eyes serious and trained on the letter.

“No. It’s...James,” James read out loud, his eyes zipping over the typeface quickly, “If he’s worth something to you, come to this address. Open the lockbox. You have two hours.”

Brett picked the envelope up and shook it into his hand, a small silver key falling out and landing without a sound in his palm.

“This is a trap,” Brett started but James was already standing up and swiping the key from his hand, closing the draft so he could type the address into his GPS. It had already burnt itself into his mind and he memorized the directions quickly.

“I don’t care.”

“James, think about this,” Brett stood up too, “We can scope it out,”

“No time,” James shoved his phone in his pocket, “We’ll barely make it in time if we leave now. You coming or what?”

“Fuck yes, I’m coming,” Brett sighed, following him out of the room and flagging down Lindsey, “James and I have a lead. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Trying to keep everything running smoothly and any rumors down? You got it,” She shot him a finger gun but her smile was forced. They were all worried. This wasn’t the first time one of them had been kidnapped - the whole reason James had moved Jakob to Cali was because he’d been snatched back in Colorado - but this was the first time that they were going in blind. They had no leads, no way of _finding_ leads, and no time to find them even if they did.

James didn’t bother responding. They wouldn’t be in his crew if they weren’t competent, he didn’t have time to fuck around with handing out orders they all already knew, so he left without a word.

Brett caught up with him as he was getting into his car and he barely waited for Brett’s door to shut before he was pulling out of their parking lot and into the light traffic on their street.

The ride was silent. Brett tried to speak once or twice, start some sort of conversation, maybe, but James honestly couldn’t think straight enough to respond outside of hums. He couldn't help but hope it was a trap, that Aleks would be close by and he and Brett would just fuck them up and take Aleks back, easy as that. The rational part of him knew that wasn't going to happen, but he could hope.

He was so angry, underneath it all; Angry at Aleks for getting kidnapped, angry at his crew for not _finding him_ , angry at the bounty hunters who took him, angry at himself. Angry at whoever had sent this stupid fucking letter. He didn't want to snap at Brett, though, or take it out on the crew, so he kept silent. Stuck to hums.

The address, when they reached it an hour and forty minutes later, was a US Mail building.

“Jesus Christ,” Brett stared first at the building and then at James, “It's a fucking PO box.”

“Maybe,” James turned the car off and got out, shoving them into his pocket and not waiting for Brett to follow before he started for the glass doors.

There was a _Sorry, we’re closed!_ Paper taped to the inside of the doors and, when he tried to push them open, they wouldn’t budge.

It was closed. It was _closed_.

He was slamming both fists against the glass panel of the door before he even realized he was doing it.

“Brett,” James ground out, “The goddamn building is closed.”

“James,” Brett repeated in the same tone of voice, mocking him, “We’re _criminals_. No building is closed. Help me find the back door.”

James didn't say anything in response, but he did follow Brett around back, keeping watch while Brett located the exit and knelt down. He pulled his lock picks out of his pocket and got to work while James looked to either side of the street, casually blocking the road’s view to Brett while he waited. Brett was their Jack of All Trades; he could do at least the minimum of everyone’s job when it came down to it, while they all focused their energies on getting better at their chosen skill and that was coming in handy now. Aleks was always the one picking locks when they were together, James didn't have the patience for it - he could do it under pressure, but it wasn’t his best skill. He regretted that now, wished that he could be _doing something_ , instead of just standing around and waiting.

“Got it,” Brett called and James turned on his heels and marched to the door, checking his phone for the time.

“Fifteen minutes to spare,” He told him, a little relieved.

“Do I come through or do I come through?” Brett raised an eyebrow and James was forced to admit that Brett did, indeed, come through when he was needed.  
They walked inside together, Brett shutting the door behind them and glancing around for any cameras or alarms while James immediately zeroed in on the wall of PO boxes to the right of the main door.

“Oh, this _fucker_ ,” James cursed, “They didn’t give us the goddamn number.”

“You’d better get cracking while I go hunt down the security tapes then, shouldn’t you?” Brett started for the Employees Only room, leaving James alone in the dark of the office. James shot him the bird, hurrying over to the wall and doing some quick mental math. Fuck, there were at least two hundred fucking boxes.

He looked at the key for any clues but, aside from a faded design, it was blank. He’d have to do this the hard way, then.

He started at the top left, trying to insert the key and moving on if he couldn’t. It was fucking tedious work, more suited to someone like Aleks than to someone like James and wasn’t that the crux of this whole god damn problem? James was a man of action, not of patience or fucking caution; he didn’t have the restraint for that shit. He needed Aleks for that, just like Aleks needed James to push him into action when he was overthinking.

Brett joined him five minutes later, tapes presumably wiped, but there wasn’t much he could do beside keep watch while James yelled _fuck_ at each box that the key didn’t open.

“We’re almost at the two-hour mark,” Brett mentioned when he was maybe halfway through.

“I’ll find it.” James grumbled back, not stopping in his search.

Brett didn't talk again for a few minutes so James buckled down and tried to go faster. He was three columns away from the end when Brett broke the silence again.

“Are those sirens?”

“I dunno.” James barely answered, trying another lock, another, another, “Are they?”

“Shit, they are.” Brett fast-walked to the front of the store to peer down the street through the glass, pushing onto his tiptoes like that would help him see over the wooden fence in the way, “James, the cops are coming. We gotta go.”

“How much longer?” James asked, not taking his focus off the boxes. A few more, just a few more.

“We’ve got maybe a minute!” Brett called back, practically shoving his face against the glass, “I can see the sirens!”

“No, damn it, how much time left on the clock!?” James yelled back, starting at the top of the last column and finding another dude.

“Damn it, James!” Brett snapped back, but he answered him a second later, “Two minutes!”

“We’ve got time,” James said softly, talking more to himself - to Aleks - than to Brett. Four boxes down from the top, the key slipped easily into the lock and turned with a click, “Found it!”

“James, we’ve got company,” Brett stepped away from the front store, “What’s in the box?”

James yanked it open and reached inside, pulling a small, thin shoebox out quickly and ripped it open. Inside was an origami rat and an iPhone 4.

“What the…”

“James, we have to _go_ ,” Brett didn’t bother to let him take a moment to understand that they’d just broken into a goddamn postal office two hours from where Aleks was last seen so they could grab a box with some folded paper and a hundred-dollar phone. Brett grabbed his shoulder and started shoving him back toward the door they’d come in from.

James didn’t resist, clutching the shoe box close. It didn’t make any fucking _sense_ , but he wasn’t going to stop until it did.

They were running to James’ car when the first car pulled up, sirens blaring and lights flashing.

“Gimme the keys,” Brett demanded and James threw them to him without asking any questions, getting into the passenger seat and losing interest in what happened after that. There was nothing he could do to help, Brett had taken the responsibility of peeling out of the parking lot to try to outrun the cops, so he focused on the box in his lap. There was a one drawn on the origami rat and, hesitantly, he started to unfold it.

There was a note written on the paper, hidden by expert folds.

“How far will you go? Escape like the rat. You have thirty minutes.” James read out loud, “There’s an address and a room number.”

“We’re ain’t goin’ anywhere any time soon, James.” Brett answered and James finally looked up at the rearview mirror, “Looks like our tipper is tipping off the other side, too.”  
“Christ,” James stared, trying to count the cars behind them through Brett going through traffic, “There’s at least four!”  
“We’re a popular bunch,” Brett took a sharp turn that had James grabbing at the handle above the door to keep himself balanced, the tires squealing at the sudden and too-fast move. The car drifted into oncoming traffic for just a second and they were nearly flattened by a semi before Brett swerved out of the way and back into the right lane.

James typed the address into his phone and shoved the paper into his pocket, gripping the phone and throwing the empty shoebox into the back seat.

The phone was locked and needed a four-digit code that James would have to figure out later so he shoved that in his pocket, too, and turned his attention to the map on his phone, “It’s a...motel.”

“How far?”

“Five minutes but we’re going the opposite way,”

“Shit on a _stick_ ,” Brett cursed and they both looked in the rearview. The cops had fallen behind but wouldn’t be for long now that cars were pulling over at the sound of their sirens.

“We need to turn around, Brett.”

“Hold on,” Brett looked around and then pointed at a bridge, not particularly big but with a steep, grassy bank leading into a small, muddy stream, “I’ll lead them away. You jump out here, wait until we’re gone, and get to the motel. Send me the address, I’ll back you up once I lose the cops.”

James sent him the address, nodding, “Don’t get caught.”

“You, either,” Brett said blandly, and slowed down just enough that when James forced the door open with no hesitation and jumped into a full body roll down the bank, it wouldn’t immediately kill him.

James had jumped out of moving cars before and, honestly, this wasn’t even the worst time he’d done it. Brett was barely going fast enough to consider the car speeding, and James tucked his body and jumped at an angle away from the car, meeting the ground with his shoulders and immediately rolling down the bank and out of sight of the road and only coming to a stop when he hit the stream under the bridge. Moments later, safely hidden under the bridge, James heard sirens pass over and then…silence, outside of normal traffic.

Clear from the cops, James took a minute to go over his body and make sure he hadn’t broken or twisted anything that would hinder him and, once he was sure he’d come away with some severe bruising on his shoulders but nothing worse than that, he checked both phones - his had cracked a little but the iPhone was fine - and started the climb out of the stream.

By the time he’d reached the road again, he was grass stained and muddy and wet and he only had twenty minutes to get two miles back the way they’d come.

_The fucking things he did for Aleksandr._

He started to run.

-

So, the whole rolling out of a car and then running two miles’ straight thing may not have been his best idea, but he made it to the motel with two minutes to spare and only had a mild pain in his back, knees and ankles for it.

The room was on the second floor so he found the right building as quickly as he could and bolted up the stairs, not stopping his jog until he finally reached the door and tried the handle - unlocked.

He locked the door after him and collapsed onto the bed, leaning over his knees for a minute to just fucking _breathe_ and rub the tingling out of his calves. He needed to increase his goddamn cardio, this was ridiculous.

He didn’t waste much time once his lungs had chilled out and got up to look around, not sure of what he was looking for until his eye caught the flashing green light on the DVD player below the television bolted to the wall.

It was a truly ancient piece of technology - the whole hotel was giving him war flashbacks to the time when he, Aleks, Dan, and Jordan all took a road trip to the annual Cockbite meeting and stayed in some shithole in San Diego.

Walking down memory lane was last on his list of priorities, though, so he made sure the DVD player wasn’t going to explode if he touched it and then he found the remote and turned the television on.

The image of an old woman with a wrinkled, long face and short, dark hair cut above her ears popped onto screen. Her eyes were heavy, bruised and purple and bagged, but she looked stoic, solid. Behind her was what looked like a hospital bed, a few machines that she was hooked to with wires that disappeared under the gown she wore. The camera must have been situated on a tripod, because both her hands were on screen, frozen mid-fold of a piece of origami paper. She was his woman then. The one who had left the fucking rat instead of just calling him.

“What the fuck,” James said out loud, just to release some frustration, and then hit play.

“If you are seeing this video, you have escaped the American police,” She said in a thick accent - Russian, he thought. “You understand, if you could not do even this simple a task than there is little point to continuing conversation.”

“I get it, you bitch,” James grumbled, sitting on the bed and glaring at the screen, “Hurry the fuck up with whatever you’re say-”

“Now that you are here, James,” She cut him off and it was a recording, he knew that, but he still couldn’t help but feel irritated, “You are an impatient one, I know this about you, so I will cut the point. You wish to find Aleksandr, yes? If so, continue to watch this video. If not, you may leave and forget any of this happened.”

She stopped and James tightened his grip on the remote in frustration and silently waited for her _dramatic pause_ to end.

“If you are still here,” She began again and James shook his tense shoulders out, prepared himself for whatever she was going to say, “I know how to find him. I will help you find him. But, in return, you must do few things for me. You will complete these tasks and once, and only once, they have been completed, I will give you leads through which you will eventually find Sasha.”

_Sasha_.

James thought back to what had happened months ago, now - the assassin, Trevor, _Elisa_. Was it connected?

“Your first task, if you have agreed, is simple. In box was both first hint to you, this video, and phone. The passcode for phone is three-nine-four-two. Call number within and tell me of Aleksandr’s life in America. I will tell you where next lead is.”

She finally looked up from her hands, where she’d folded a fucking butterfly while she’d been talking, “I will be waiting.”

The video ended, her piercing stare frozen on screen, looking at him.

James didn’t even bother turning it off, already unlocking the phone and opening the contacts list.

There was only one. Even the preprogrammed help lines had been removed and, when he did a quick run through, the rest of the phone was clear, too.

He hit call and pressed the phone to his ear, still squeezing the remote hard enough that he could feel the plastic embedding into the skin of his palm.

It rang three times. James was just beginning to think that this whole thing had been a long, elaborate prank that he was going to hunt the old bitch down and kill her for when someone picked up on the last ring.

“You have accepted.” She said.

“Tell me where he fucking is or so help me, you will regret ever hearing his name,” James snapped back almost before she’d finished.

“That, James,” She sighed, “Was not deal. But, to put end to this now, I cannot tell you where he is. I do not know.”

“Then how the fuck are you supposed to help me? I don’t have time for this, lady, I need to find my partner -”

“I do not know where he is but I know how to find him,” She clarified, “And I will help you, but you _must_ do these things for me or I will not.”

“Why do you want to know about him? You obviously know him from before he was here; you’re Russian, he’s fucking terrified of Russians.”

“That was not the deal,” She repeated, getting a little irritated - join the fucking _club_ \- “If you are not going to do these things for me, then we will end the conversation here -”

“Wait,” James cut her off, slumping in defeat. He rested his head in his hands, tried to ignore the intense aching of his shoulders and the way his ankles throbbed. He just needed to find Aleks. “What do you want to know?”

“Tell me of his life in America. Is he well-off? Is he safe? Does he like your crew? And you, you are his lover, yes? You treat him well?”

“Stop,” He stared at the floor, wondering what the fuck his life had become that he was being interrogated about his partner by a strange old Russian woman possibly in hospice over the phone. “His life was going okay, he’s well-off, he’s got a fucking dog and a cat and he was safe until someone _kidnapped him off the street_ and that’s all I’m going to fucking tell you! Just give me the goddamn lead, you piece of shit! He’s alone with some fucking bounty hunters and I need to fucking _find him_ , I don’t have time for this!”

She didn’t answer for a moment and James began to get antsy, standing up to pace while he waited for whatever she was going to do.

“You have given me enough to ease my concerns,” She finally said and he stopped pacing, “Your instructions are under the bed, against the wall of the room. When you have completed the objective, call me again and I will give you your drop-off point.”

She hung up before he could say anything but he was already tossing the phone onto the bed so he could drop to his knees and crawl underneath to find the instructions.

There was an origami butterfly propped against the wall and he sneered but grabbed it before crawling out of the small space, sneezing at the dust that was disturbed by his impromptu visit to the floor boards.

He flipped it in his hand when he was back on his feet, looking for any clues, but all he saw was blank white except for a small two written in the corner of one wing. It was about the size of his palm, the texture of the paper rough, but he was still beyond careful when he unfolded it.

His eyes tore over the words written on the other side, a slanted cursive that it took him too long to fucking decipher but, when he did, he couldn’t help but cover his face with his hands and yell as loudly as he could. He hurled the remote away from him, hitting the television hard enough that it cracked and the remote shattered against it, the batteries and the back flinging around the room. He’d shattered her face, too, a spider web of small lines starting from right between her eyes and spreading out until it touched the corners of the screen. He wished that the remote had been a fucking bullet and it had hit her real face.

He was going to have to talk to Geoff. Looks like he’d need the Fake AH’s help, after all.

 


	2. The Butterfly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys!!!  
> sorry about that break between chapters last week but i THINK i will be able to do one chapter a week now? lets.....see
> 
> as always thank u [kenn](http://allrighthello.tumblr.com/), [tay](http://nealinator.tumblr.com/), and [phoenix](http://amanduh-hess.tumblr.com/), idk what id do without u three but it def wouldn't be writing this lmao
> 
> as ALWAYS PLEASE GO TELL PHOENIX HOW AMAZING HIS EDITS ARE BC IM IN L O V E WITH THEM AND I MAY CRY AGAIN JUST LOOKING AT THEM
> 
> you can find me at on [Tumblr](http://the-cockbite-syndicate.tumblr.com/) if you'd like! I post fake/gta!au stuff :)

From the muck, the Cockbites had risen as if summoned by a dark force and taken control of everywhere their eyes rested; a plague of biblical proportions that had swept across the land until there was nothing that they didn’t have their fingers on to some extent. Originally starting in Austin, they had grown from a few friends wanting to do a little business under the table to an organization capable of slowly taking over the west coast and spreading eastward toward the other half of the country.

If rumor was to be believed, Geoff had been the first to detach from the original crew and push for growth. With the support of the Cockbites, he birthed his Let’s Play Family. They were all Geoff’s, in a sense; sure, the other Cockbites were on his level in terms of who they answered to if things went south but Geoff was the one they all knew, the one who came to James’ mind when he thought of who had his loyalty. As far as James knew, Geoff had collected seven crews, not counting the Fake AH, and a handful of mercs who floated around where he wanted them. There was the Hub in Colorado; Fakehaus, Fake Chop, and the Fake Pine out in Cali; Kinda Fake in San Fan; the Fake Attacks’ in Austin with the rest of Cockbite; and then J456, Lazer, Criken and JT, none of whom James had ever met but who he’d seen around last time Geoff had called them all for the annual meeting.

Geoff had a way of finding them when they were still coal and polishing and applying pressure until they were hard as diamonds; he’d done it with his personal crew and he did it with every crew he adopted into his family. Some, like the Hub, crumbled. But others, like Fakehaus and Fake Chop, bloomed under the attention.

The first time James had met Geoff, he’d been intimidated. James didn’t get intimidated often, he’d have to care enough to know who someone was in the first place and _then_ have to work up the energy to be scared, but this was the _Kingpin_. They’d whispered about him, his reputation and his crew, when James was still in with Felix as a hitman. So, when Dan had ended a call he’d taken in the middle of a meeting and said that the Kingpin and Mogar were coming down to meet the crew and check on things - yes, James had been nervous.

They’d shown up two days later and James had been the one to show them in. Geoff had slouched, even in his expensive tux, his mustache messy and ungroomed and his eyes bloodshot like he’d been drinking starting at the crack of dawn - and he smelled it too - but James could have spotted the danger from a mile away. Michael “Mogar” Jones had stood next to Geoff, totally at ease, like his boss being sloshed hadn’t even phased him, and he’d cracked a joke and been as loud as James usually was and James had been _intimidated_ because they held themselves so casually, with such little worry for their surroundings that he’d almost been envious of it. He and Aleks, they’d already been making plans to leave the Hub, had meetings with the people they were taking and with the people they were bringing in and had even already told Jordan and Dan that they weren’t going to come back after the next heist. They’d been set to go out on their own, show the Hub how it was _meant_ to be; James was going to show Jordan that he and Aleks weren’t _dangerous_ for each other, no matter what he thought. They’d be more successful than anything Jordan had ever seen - even if they had a rocky start.

And then Geoff had shown up, Michael at his back, and, within an hour, James knew exactly what a crew that could last looked like and James had stopped being intimidated and just become more determined than ever. If that was what he had to become to keep Aleks and his friends close, then that is what he would become.

-

“You _what_?”

“Read it yourself,” James tossed the crumpled ball that had once been a palm-sized butterfly at Brett, who caught it and - for the sake of their crew, gathered behind him and watch James dig around their props until he’d found the right costume - read it out loud.

“Attend the WBS Gala in Los Santos. A map and list of five files will be sent to your phone. Gain access to the secure room, retrieve the files, get out. James, this is -”

“A trap, you said it before. You were wrong.” James cut him off, folding the white suit carefully into a duffle and zipping it up. He’d buy more clothes in Achievement City if he needed to. “I talked to Geoff, he’s got his jet waiting to fly me out to them. Midas already had an invite and he’s bringing Mogar, but they’re sneaking me in and they’ll cause a distraction while I get to the place I’m going and grab what I need.”

“Just listen -” Brett started to say but James wasn’t in the mood. Brett was just going to try to stop him, and he wasn’t going to be stopped. He pulled the strap of his duffle over his shoulder and grabbed the briefcase containing his gun and some of the tools he thought he might need to break into a high security office.

“I gotta go, Brett,” James said firmly, shouldering past Anna and Asher when they tried to block his way, “I’ll call you when I land. I won’t be gone long; this shit is tomorrow night so -”

“James, goddamn it!” Brett yelled, loud enough that James finally stopped his erratic tango from desk to desk toward the door, “Stop! Just _listen_ to me! This is too risky. We’ve already lost Aleks. We can’t lose you, too.”

“We,” James turned to glare at him, “Have _not_ lost Aleks. I will bring him back, Brett.”

“You’re being reckless, man!” Brett pointed at Jakob and Aron, who were staring between the two of them awkwardly, Asher and Anna peeking around their shoulders while Lindsey, Joe, and Trevor set together on the couch and watched it all silently. “ _We_ will bring him back. Together. Trust your crew, here, James. I thought we were gonna try to be different.”

James held tight to his duffle and met Brett’s eye.

He wasn’t a good man, he knew that. He was barely even human, most days, but he could at least meet Brett’s eyes. He wished he could be different about this; He wished...fuck, a lot of things. But he couldn’t risk it. Not this.

“I’d trust you with my life, Brett. And I’m sure he trusts you with his, too.”

“ _He_ does.” Brett repeated after a moment of searching his face.

“I’m sorry.”

Brett sneered, but none of them tried to stop him when he left.

-

He parked his car in what _could_ have been a spot but didn’t try too hard to check. He hardly cared if it got towed or stolen or what the fuck ever. He’d get a new fucking car when he got back. He grabbed his phone from the charger, saw he’d received a text that said _Good luck, we’ll keep trying_ from Joe and another that said _stay safe fucker_ from Jakob and bit back the feelings of gratefulness that swelled in his throat. He knew he’d risked his place in the crew by walking away, but at least he hadn’t lost them.

When he got out of the car, duffle and suitcase in hand, the jet was the most conspicuous thing on the field. Surrounded by single-flyer planes and a few gliders that barely touched the height of its wings, it was big, long, thin and golden. Accented with gray, it shimmered so brightly in the dying light of the sun that it was almost hard to look at. He dropped Aleks’ sunglasses over his eyes, the golden ones that Aleks only wore to parties and meetings, and nodded at the suited-up security detail standing at the bottom of the stairs leading to the entrance of the jet.

There was someone else inside the jet but the skull mask was familiar to him and James had honestly expected at least one member of the Fake AH to have come to meet him. He’d thought it would be Michael or maybe Midas, but the Vagabond wasn’t too much of a stretch, either.

He set across from him, accepted the shot the Vagabond poured him and tossed it back with barely a grimace, letting it burn down his throat and settle heavy in his stomach like syrup.

He set the glass aside and pulled the crumpled paper out and slid it across the table so the Vagabond could see it.

“My first hint.”

“And you don’t know anything?” The Vagabond picked the paper up, leather covered fingers gingerly gripping the edges and looking it all over before he settled back to read it, “This party isn’t easy to get into.”

“I think that’s why the old bitch is sending me,” James shrugged, looking out of the window. His eyes found his car, barely visible in the near darkness as night fell. Aleks had been missing for almost seven hours.

The jet wasn’t loud when it took off, quieter than most planes James had been on, a smooth and gradual lift that no one appeared to tell them they needed to be belted down for. He watched his car as they ascended until it was nothing but a small speck, and then until the airfield itself was out of sight and all he could see was the darkness of a dusky night sky and clouds.

The Vagabond didn’t talk much for the first half of the two-hour journey and James probably should have used the chance to get some rest but he didn’t even bother to try. He knew his head would be too all over the place for him to get any amount of sleep, let alone any amount of _rest_. He just stared at the scrap of paper in the Vagabond’s hands until he set it down and then he pulled it back to himself and, for what must have been the hundredth time, reread it. And then he reread it again, and again, until his eyes were blurry and he couldn’t see straight enough to read the cursive. By then, though, he had it memorized.

“So, the WBS Gala,” He finally broke the silence, not exactly unnerved by the black pits of the Vagabond’s mask staring at him but not exactly _not_ unnerved either, “What is it?”

“It’s the Worthman Banking Services’ Gala,” The Vagabond said, finally turning his head to look out of the window, “An excuse for all the high-class socialites and underworld bigwigs in Achievement City to come together to network or just cause a little drama. Last year, before we brought him down, the Corpirate challenged Geoff to a sword fight. Not a fencing match, an honest-to-God sword fight.”

“Did Geoff do it?” James couldn’t help but ask.

“I fought for him,” The Vagabond leaned back in his chair and James got the distinct impression he was smiling, “Where do you think the Corpirate lost his eye?”

“You can use a _sword_?”

“I can do a lot of things.”

James didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. Instead, he brought the subject back around, “So how am I getting in?”

“Gavin will tell you,” the Vagabond shrugged, still looking out of the window, “Parties are his domain. I’m just here to make sure you get back to the penthouse. And aren’t selling us out to get your man back.”

“Understandable,” James looked back at the paper again. Honestly, if it had asked him to betray the Fakes...he couldn't say that he wouldn’t have done it for Aleks, no matter how loyal he was to Geoff.

The rest of the flight was quiet. The Vagabond didn’t say anything, and James didn’t either. He thought a lot, though. About Aleks, about his crew; Aleks probably would be yelling at him for walking out. He’d never trusted easy, but he trusted with everything when he did and, were their places reversed, James didn’t doubt that Aleks would still be in the office with the others, working together to bring him home. James wished he could do that, wished he could share the burden of this with them - but he couldn’t. It wasn’t a burden he could let go of, not when Aleks was involved. Not when something like this happened.

Their landing was as quiet and smooth as their take off. The airport was lit up brightly, plenty of visibility for the pilot, but James barely noticed. His attention had been captured by the beauty of Achievement City, the jewel of Geoff’s eye.

Even at night, it shone bright enough that he could clearly make out hundreds of buildings, all different colors of neon and florescent yellow that mixed together into a haze of windows climbing high into the sky, flashing signs advertising businesses and products, cars zooming to and fro, a bustling city that Geoff and his crew had claimed and then taken control of from the ground up - from the very foundations of its oldest buildings to the name itself. Los Santos was a name on the map, but everyone else knew it as the Kingpin’s shining achievement.

“To Achievement City, then:” the Vagabond sighed when the jet had finally come to a stop, “Where ne’er from LA arrived more happy men.”

“Sure.” James said carefully, and followed him out of the jet, his duffle and suitcase in hand.

There was a car waiting for them, a bright purple SUV with an orange hood and accents that was an eyesore at night and James didn’t want to imagine it in the day. He couldn’t decide if he was...excited to get into it or just disgusted.

Still, the Vagabond opened the door for him and he climbed inside without hesitation. The Lads were waiting in the free seats, all four of them, and the Vagabond made a disagreeable noise when he’d shut the door on all of them. The light above their doors were all on, lighting up the room enough that James could easily see all of them, but it didn’t seem to bother Rimmy Tim’s driving because he started the car and smoothly removed them from the airport with a tip of his white cowboy hat to James.

“I see you four hyenas sniffed out some drama and couldn’t wait until we were home. I’m disappointed, Ray.” He shook his head, removing the skull mask and shoving blond hair out of his face. Some of it came away with dark smudges from the face paint he wore underneath the skull. James didn’t bother taking a close look at his face; he didn’t care who or what the Vagabond was, and he’d seen it before.

“Drama?” Midas laughed, and it was the kind of laugh that would have made James want to laugh, too, had he not been in his current situation, “Us? No, of course not, love. We’re just here to check on Nova. It’s never easy when things like this happen.”

He turned his eyes - rimmed gold so they popped against the bronze of his skin - to James and lost the toothy grin, replaced with something more sympathetic, “I like Immortal. I’m happy to help.”

“Yeah,” Michael leaned forward, “You fuck with one of us, you fuck with all of us.”

“Thanks,” James shifted uncomfortably. This was the first time he’d actually had to call in any of the other Fakes to help with something because Fake Chop couldn’t do it alone; it was more support than he’d been expecting when they’d signed up by far. He hadn’t dealt with Geoff’s crew much outside of Michael; even the last two annual meetings they’d been involved in had been Aleks doing most of the schmoozing and networking while he’d stuck to his usual contacts, making new deals with clients outside of the Cockbites to keep them independent even while the would mainly supply Cockbite affiliates. He’d never actually spoken to Brownman before, Rimmy Tim was...extreme, Midas made him uncomfortable, and he was pretty sure that the Vagabond would tear out his throat at a moment’s notice if ordered to. Having Michael in the car, at least, put him a little at ease. The man had drunk his alcohol, gone on a drop with his crew - it was something.

“Anyway,” Brownman spoke up, not taking his eyes off his DS or letting his fingers pause, “Get talking. The note, the plan, etcetera. Tell us the long story, my man.”

“The long story is someone kidnapped Aleks and now I’m going on a fucking treasure hunt for some old bitch who wants me to steal some files for her at this Gala.” He pulled the paper out of his pocket but the Vagabond was already shaking his head.

“It’s useless. There’s nothing on there that would give anything away.”

“She’s having me use this,” James pulled the phone out of his pocket and handed it over after unlocking it, “A map of the place and a list of files.”

“Hm,” Midas looked the file names over and then handed the phone over to Brownman, who passed it over to Rimmy Tim. Neither of them seemed all that worried that he was driving in heavy traffic, so James didn’t worry about it either.

“These plans are different from ours, it shows a whole nother building. It’s either underground or hidden by the trees.” Rimmy Tim finally had the phone passed back, “And these are probably paper folders. The naming system is too simple for what we know WBS uses.”

“Different plans?” Michael looked the plans over himself and then nodded, “Yeah, there’s like...shit, that’s a whole building on this that we don’t have. Where did she get this?”

“Dunno,” James accepted the phone back, locked it, and slid it back into place, “Don’t care. I just need to get in and grab the files. You said you’d help me with that?”

“Anything for family,” Midas smiled, slow and wicked, “Provided you help me with a little something.”

James relaxed. Familiar territory, finally. “What do you want?”

“They have a file _I_ want, too. We’ll get you into the building, but I need you to grab it for me. And I’ll warn you, it may be a little bigger than the others.”

“What’s the file?”

“Us,” Midas motioned around, “WBS is...oddly connected. They keep a wide variety of information, including on people that I’d rather them have nothing on - such as us. None of it is digitized; or, if it is, I haven’t been able to find it.” And something about the way he said it told James that that was _highly_ unlikely. “We may not be able to take it away completely, but I want to know what they know.”

“I can do that,” James nodded without hesitation. “How’re you gettin’ me in?”

“Easy,” Midas tapped Michael’s shoulder, “You’ll be my plus-one, but we’ll be using Micoo’s name since he’s who I RSVP’d with. When they look at the guest list, he’ll have come with me - not you. He’ll sneak in with the help, meet with us in the ballroom and then the two of us will cause a distraction while you sneak off to what you need.”

“And if I’m caught?”

“If you’re caught,” Midas leaned back, frowning, “There isn’t much we can do for you, Nova. The Gala is full of powerful people - not as powerful as us, of course, but those who would be...difficult to stamp out quickly enough to save you. Just don’t get caught and you’ll be fine.”

James couldn’t help but smile, nodding at the advice, “Yeah, okay.”

“Perfect,” Midas clapped his hands, “Now that that’s taken care of,” he turned to the Vagabond, “Ry-bread, tell me about your trip. Is LA still proper trash like Fakehaus is always trying to say it isn’t?”

“Yes,” the Vagabond confirmed, and his voice was amused, a smile tilting at his lips. “I’m glad to be home.”

“You should have taken the Rimmy Jet,” Rimmy Tim called back, “I bet it would have been a cooler flight,”

“Jeremy! You don’t have a jet, Jeremy,” Gavin laughed, picking up Michael’s hand to play absentmindedly with his fingers. Michael didn’t seem to care, letting him do it while he talked to the Vagabond and Rimmy Tim. James looked out the window and dropped out of the conversation, not in the mood to joke around or talk much. He was tired in a way that sleeping wouldn’t elevate, and he could feel everyone’s eyes on him - like they thought he was liable to explode. In his younger days, he might have been. Now, though, he just felt like he was fizzling out. He wanted Aleks at his side.

They made it to Geoff’s penthouse within the hour and Rimmy Tim took his things for him with a friendly smile that James didn’t have time to return before he was being herded inside and into the elevator that would lead them to the top of the building. Midas didn’t stop talking the whole while, filling the silence up like it was a rival trying to take up space where it was unwelcome, and it would have grated at James’ nerves if he hadn’t been so used to constant talking. The new office was just a big room and they were a loud group; it was almost comforting that the Fake AH was similar. Put a damper on the feeling that he may have missed his crew, a little.

The elevator opened to an expansive, expensive penthouse that James barely had time to look at before he was being led out of the elevator and following Rimmy Tim to a dark wood door.

“You can sleep here, tonight.” Rimmy Tim handed his bags over and opened the door for him, revealing a bed with a thick comforter and a nice wooden bedside table, a recliner by the window and a few lamps stationed around the room for what kind of looked like mood lighting. “Geoff and Jack are already sleeping because they’re fucking old, but they’ll be up in the morning to talk to you.”

“Thanks.”  James walked in and set his stuff on the bed before he turned back to talk to him, “Uh. I’m James, by the way. I don’t think we’ve ever actually met before.”

“Oh,” Rimmy Tim blinked and then offered a hand, smiling big and wide again, “Jeremy. Sorry someone stole your partner.”

“It happens.” James could only think to say, shaking his hand sharply and then closing the door once Jeremy had turned away from the door. He flicked the lock in place, closed the curtains and turned all the lights off, and then he kicked his shoes off, crawled into the bed, and called Joe’s number.

“James? Did you make it?”  
“I’m here,” James confirmed, “How’re things on your end?”

“Well...Brett raged around for a while, but Lindsey calmed him down. Trevor’s still working on trying to track the van but Aron and I are...you’re not gonna like it, okay, but we’re trying to dig into Aleks’ past. He said he should have told you everything, right? So maybe we’ll find something that will help us.”

“Keep me updated,” James frowned, staring into the pitch darkness of the room, “Don’t...what you find, keep it private.”

“Only you will know.” Joe promised, and then hung up.

In the dark, James managed to find his phone chargers and plug both his personal and the iPhone in to charge and then slipped a knife under his pillow.

He laid down with his back to the window, facing the door, closed his eyes, and tried to get some rest.

The next time he had any awareness, Aleks was with him; Warm and safe, where he should be.

“Hey,” Aleks whispered against his neck, spooned behind James so close that they were practically breathing together, “I don’t regret it.”

“Regret what?” James whispered back without opening his eyes, furrowing his brow at the slowly spreading wet warmth against his back, where Aleks’ chest was “Aleks?”

“I don’t regret it,” Aleks said again, choking, pained, the familiar faintness of blood loss in his voice, and James turned over, heard hammering in his chest.

His eyes snapped open, Aleks’ name on the tip of his tongue, and he was alone.

Alone, in the unfamiliar bedroom Jeremy had shown him the night before. No light came from the outside world and, when he looked at the clock, it was barely passed five in the morning.

He got up anyway, checked both phones for updates - of which there were none, and then pulled his shoes back on and left the room.

At first, he thought he was the only person awake in the whole apartment but, as he moved closer to the kitchen, the quiet sounds of someone puttering around caught his attention.

It was Midas, stripped of his accessories and makeup, ruffled and sleepy but awake and carefully measuring grinds into a fancy coffee machine on the counter in a fluffy golden robe.

James paused at the door, unsure of his welcome, but Midas glanced over at him and nodded a tired hello so he set at the island silently.

“Someone took Jeremy, once,” Midas broke the silence nearly ten minutes later, sitting across from James with a mug of coffee. The mug was huge, chipped in a hundred places but painted the gaudiest gold that James had ever seen, and filled to the brim, almost overflowing until Midas took a deep sip and let his eyes flutter closed.

James didn’t know what to say to that so he didn’t say anything at all.

“We tracked them down, of course, obviously. But it took a while. A week, I think. It’s all a blur now,” he laughed a little, meeting James’ eyes easily. James suddenly remembered what Michael and Geoff had said, that Midas and Aleks had the same look in their eyes. He looked closer, behind the amused tiredness - and he saw it. The familiar starkness of his gaze that spoke of untold experiences that James, for all his time in this world, couldn’t relate to.

“We got him back, our sweet Jeremy,” Midas took another sip of his coffee, “And then I watched while Ryan broke every bone in their bodies and locked them in a storage container. We came back a few weeks later, just to see if they’d resorted to cannibalism.”

He laughed again and, ah, there it was. The difference that James has been searching for. Midas’ eyes, that look that was the same as Aleks’...Midas had the years on Aleks that had allowed him to take his pain and wrap it around himself like armor. Aleks, even if someone had taken one of their crewmembers, never could have stomached locking broken men inside a hole to starve. It had probably been Midas’ idea.

“Did they?” James asked, because he wasn’t Aleks. Something in him hungered for the answer. For just a moment, he envied Rimmy Tim more than anyone else he’d ever envied in his life. To have been searched for...to have been saved. To have been _avenged_.

“Yes.” Midas wrinkled his nose, “Gross, innit? What we’ll do to survive? But, then again...they shouldn’t have taken what was ours.”

“Yeah.” James broke eye contact, feeling somehow like he’d almost been eaten then and there. Midas was mesmerizing and James was arrogant, but he wasn’t so arrogant as to believe that he could resist that pull if Midas wanted to push.

“You’re smart, Nova.” Midas stood up, “Or is it James, now that you left the Hub?”

“James is fine.” James shrugged, watching him pull another mug out and fill it with coffee. He came back to the island, set the mug in front of James, and went back to his own.

James accepted it easily, taking a careful sip. He could taste how expensive it was. The thing was that he had money, he was well off and could easily retire right now if he wanted to; but he was nowhere near the Fake AH Crew’s level of well off. No one that he could think of really was. More than the amount in their bank account, it was their attitude about it that set them apart from other members of the elite. No one could burn money without a care quite like the Lads.

“Then call me Gavin,” Midas - Gavin, now - offered his hand, “We haven’t properly met yet.”

“No,” James shook it easily, “But I’ll always remember our first conversation, now.”

“Cannibalism and kidnapping can do that,” Gavin hid a smile behind his mug but James saw the sides of his mouth twitch up enough to give him away. “Now, let’s get started on dressing you up. I saw you brought tools, but we won’t be able to get them in. What else did you bring?”

“I brought a suit.” James finished off his mug in three long pulls and then wiped his mouth with his sleeve and set the mug to the side, “It think it’ll work.”

“Color?” Gavin asked, raising an eyebrow at the empty mug but not quickening his intake any.

“White.”

“Perfect, my boi and I look great in white.” He looked James over quickly and smiled again, slow and flirty, “And I’m sure you will, too.”

James smirked back, winking at the look, and Gavin leaned back and laughed. He must have been loud enough to bother him, because the glass door of the balcony opened up to reveal the Vagabond - sans mask, pant, and shirt. He was just in a pair of flannel pants, chest hair shaved in the shape of a fucking skull, carrying a yoga mat.

“Ryan!” Gavin hopped up, animated now, “You’re finished?”

“I was trying to,” the Vagabond sighed, but he accepted Gavin’s half empty mug and finished it off in one go while Gavin turned back to James.

“James, have you met James?” He looked between the two of them, laughing again, and the Vagabond looked at James, who was trying not to show his bemused expression.

“My first name is also James,” the Vagabond shook his head, but he pulled Gavin in to kiss his forehead casually before he continued to the island to offer a hand, “Ryan is fine.”

“James,” James took his hand and shook it firmly, resolutely not thinking about how easily that had just happened. He wanted to do that with Aleks. He wanted _Aleks_ , and every moment he was sitting here was a moment where he didn’t _have him_.

But, even if he _had_ Aleks, they’d never been so affectionate in front of other people; least of all a stranger that they worked with. They’d argued because he’d kissed Aleks while Trevor was close by, once.

“James,” Ryan squeezed his hand, “Don’t get my crew killed tonight.”

James didn’t smile because, for all that Ryan had said it jokingly, it wasn’t a joke.

“I won’t.”

“You won’t like what happens if something goes wrong and either of them get hurt.” Ryan let his hand go and patted his shoulder, “Good luck. I hope you get your man back. Geoff said you were...close.”

“Close.” James couldn’t help but smile and it was painful, “That’s a word.”

“Yeah.” Ryan dropped his hand and turned back to Gavin, “I’ll get Geoff out here.”

“Get Michael, too, love,” Gavin set back down across from James, “We need to discuss our game plan here. I didn’t expect a heist, of all things! I thought it was just murder, silly me.”

Ryan grunted in response, disappearing out of the kitchen and into the hallway lined with doors to what were presumably bedrooms.

“Don’t mind him,” Gavin waved after Ryan, “He’s a grump in the morning. Anyhow, back to this suit of yours. We’ll polish you up, get you settled in and dig up a little more on this floor plan of yours before tonight.”

“When do we leave? And what about a murder?”

“Party starts at eight, so we’ll show up around nine-thirty. It wouldn’t do to be too early, would it? And, as for the murder...well, I’ve been told you lived an assassin’s life once. It’s almost like going home, isn’t it?” Gavin intertwined his fingers and James, uncomfortable at the reminder of that, looked over his shoulder at the sound of more people shuffling into the hall instead of answering. He saw Michael first, hair a nest of auburn curls and glasses askew on his wrinkled nose, with Geoff following close behind, his mustache a mess of unwaxed hair. Both of them were wearing black robes - robes that matched the golden one on Gavin in terms of how delicately soft they appeared.

Ryan didn’t return, stayed disappeared in the hall, and there was no sign of Jeremy or the Beard, so James didn’t worry about watching out for them. It was barely even morning, honestly, and he was lucky that Gavin and Ryan had been up. Otherwise, he would have set in the living room silently, impatiently waiting for when the Fake AH started their day. He couldn’t do this without them, as much as that rankled him.

“Okay, fuckers, let’s get planning. Gav, get me some coffee. Hey, James.” Geoff slapped the table, making all three of them jump, and settled into his chair. Even sleepy, mused, in nothing but a robe and yesterday’s stubble, James remembered why Geoff had inspired him. It wasn’t trust, but James had enough respect for him and his crew to know that he was with the best. If anyone could get him into that Gala, it was the original Fakes.

“Hi, Geoff.” James greeted, holding back a smile.

“You’re loud,” Michael groaned, but he accepted the cup of coffee from Gavin with a peck to his lips.

James resolutely did not stare or let himself look startled when Geoff accepted his own mug with a kiss of his own.

Okay, so maybe some of the rumors he’d heard were a little more true than he’d thought.

Aleks would have known what to do with this information, what to say, but Aleks wasn’t with him - and that was why he was here in the first place.

He bunkered down, didn’t let his curiosity get the best of him, and focused when Gavin wandered away long enough to get his laptop and bring it to the island so he could pull the map from the iPhone and show it off.

He’d worry about whatever was happening inside Geoff’s crew once he’d figured out what was going on inside his own.

-

The plan, in the end, was simple.

“Nervous?” Gavin asked, sitting back in the limo with one long leg crossed over the other, fingers locked together in a bridge on his lap. He was decked out properly; a suit so white it was blinding, rings of gold and jewels on most of his fingers and a hint of the eyeliner from before. Somehow, while James had been getting dressed in the guest room, Gavin had done something to his skin to smooth out blemishes and make the bleach blond of his hair seem even brighter than usual. He looked like something James would see on the cover of a glossy magazine; not real and sitting across from him in a limo with a smile.

But he was distracting, was a bright plaything for people to stare at while James slipped into the background, and James could appreciate that.

“No,” James shook his head, crossing his arms and leaning forward to rest most of his weight on his legs and stare at his shoes. Gavin had gone with a classic; a pair of two-tone oxfords, white with a golden accent. If the get up didn’t look so good on him, James would have said it was too much. James had gone with a simple pair of black derbies that he’d borrowed from Michael and a matching fedora and bow tie, and the white suit he’d pulled from the warehouse before he’d left. The Beard had done his best to make it shine, though it - and James - were dull standing next to Gavin; which, really, was the point.

“Good.” Gavin picked up his phone from the seat next to him and flicked through it, the flash of his nicely trimmed - painted white - nails in the light of the limo making James blink, “My boi’s already in the kitchens.” He smiled fondly, “Hopefully there won’t be any explosions until we get there.”

“And I meet him…?”

“There’s a small nook in the corner of the first floor,” Gavin finally leaned forward, flipping his phone to show James his copy of the floor plans, “This little square here. Michael will be waiting for you there, the two of you will change outfits. Keep the hat on, don’t look anyone in the eye, don’t bring attention to yourself. Oh, and...”

Gavin opened his suit jacket and pulled out two white masks; one, a Venetian half mask with delicate golden designs painted around the eyes - cut wider than usual so Gavin’s eyes were plainly visible - and down the bridge of nose. The other, a full face with a twisted-up smile and a darker, stained gold glaze around the eyes that reflected James’ image back to him.

“It’s a masquerade?”

“Until midnight, yes.” Gavin handed the full mask over to him and he took it carefully, looked it over critically, “It gives everyone a chance to pretend we don’t all know each other. Make new connections with rivals under the guise of not knowing we’re talking to our enemies.”

“Hm,” James nodded, “And at midnight?”

“We unmask, finalize our agreements, off we go.” Gavin smiled and, as the limo came to a stop, put the mask on. James could still clearly tell it was him and he could hazard a guess that that was the point. “Hawk’s speech is exactly thirty minutes - it’s the same every year - and it starts at nine-fifty. You’ve got twenty minutes to find my boi and change and then forty minutes to get in and get out with the files because at ten-thirty, we’re going to get the fuck out. With or without you. Got it?”

“Yeah,” James nodded, took off his hat so he could maneuver the mask on over his bun. He’d almost chopped it off when it hadn’t wanted to cooperate while he was getting dressed but had hesitated when he thought about how Aleks would react to that. Instead, he’d bundled it into a tight bun on the top of his head, covered by the fedora. Once the mask was in place, he situated the hat back on and tried to get used to the limited vision the mask gave him. He could see straight ahead and a little to either side, but his peripheral vision was severely hindered. He wouldn’t see anyone coming from either side of him fast enough to protect his sides if he were attacked.

“Perfect,” Gavin hesitated and then reached over and gripped his shoulder, “I want to see Aleks come home safe, too. We British stick together, after all.”

“Aleks isn’t British,” James started, confused, but Gavin only laughed - bright and amused and James felt his cheeks flush a little at the look on his face.

“That’s beside the point. Don’t lose focus on your mission, okay? You’re doing this for Aleks.”

“No shit,” James couldn’t help but snap, feeling a little talked down to, “Everything I do is for Aleks. Are you ready?”

“Set your watch.” Gavin leaned back again and tapped his wrist, where a gold watch more expensive than most human lives rested against his skin, “I’m talking exact seconds for a time frame.”

“Yeah,” James looked at his own watch, also on loan because he hadn’t thought he’d need a time-telling tool that wasn’t his phone when he’d left for Achievement City and they both compared times - just to make sure - before Gavin knocked on the door and Jeremy - dressed in a dark suit and sunglasses, sans his hat but unable to hide the purple and orange hair - opened the door for them.

Gavin got out first, fluid and smooth, and James followed confidently. This, at least, he could do. Aleks, for all that he was okay with people in a way that James wasn’t, couldn’t fake confidence like James could.

It was no red carpet, but the WBS was being held in a beautiful hall of some sort. It must have been private property, because it was surrounded completely by trees and civilized wildlife, much like the Corpirate’s shitty mansion; tall, thick trees that looked ancient and awesome in the oldest sense of the word, flowers that couldn’t have been native but seemed to flourish outside of the hall, lights shining outward from the glass of the front wall, bathing the steps from the drive where they were being dropped off with a few of the stragglers to the party and erasing the darkness that the night had left behind. It was an easy walk for them and Gavin wrapped his arm through James’, pressed to his side and looked at him through the mask with a glittering smile.

It spoke of danger, the thrill that always accompanied missions; it suddenly made James fiercely miss his crew. Not just Aleks, but Joe and Jakob, Trevor and Aron, Anna and Asher, Lindsey and - fuck - even Brett, for all that they were fighting right now. He wanted to be doing this with _them_.

But he couldn’t. He needed the original Fakes for this mission, and then he was on his own finding Aleks. He couldn’t risk Aleks, not when the crew was only a year old and still had cracks. Nothing could put Aleks at risk - not James, not Fake Chop. He would ask for forgiveness from his crew when Aleks was safe, but he couldn’t ask permission - if they were even _his_ crew anymore, once all was said and done.

“Free and Jones.” Gavin said to the doorman, bringing James back to attention. They’d made it from the car - now gone, Jeremy included - to the front door, where a beefy guy in a tank with _SECURITY_ written across the front in blocky white letters with a clipboard was slowly dragging his eyes over a page.

“Invitation?”

Before James could blink, Gavin was pulling a card from James’ suit pocket and handing it over - James hadn’t even noticed that that was _there_.                                         

“Welcome to the Worthman Banking Services’ Gala, Mister Free, Mister Jones.” The doorman stepped aside, unclipped the velvet rope in front of the door, and they were inside.

“That was easy.” James couldn’t help but frown once they were out of earshot. Gavin laughed quietly, leaning up to whisper quietly into his ear so he wasn’t overheard.

“They don’t care if we’re who we say we are. They just want something _interesting_ , love. Being an elite crime lord with untold riches can get so _boring_.”

“Yeah.” James agreed, because he couldn’t quite see what the fuck Gavin was talking about from his position. Then again, he might feel differently at the end of nearly ten years than he did at only one with a successful crew. Gavin and he were only a few years apart, he was pretty sure, but Gavin had been in this game a lot deeper than James had been, and for a lot longer.

He looked around as they walked through the entrance hall, taking in the high ceiling and the relatively short hall that led to an elegant elevator with a man in a red vest and mask standing at attention. The map on James’ phone had already given away the shape of the buildings and they’d mapped out a line of movement for him to follow that morning at the kitchen island but he still kept his eyes peeled for any changes as they strolled to the operator and he bowed his head in greeting.

“To the Gala, sirs?” the operator asked, opening the gates of the elevator so they could both walk in.

“Yes.” Gavin confirmed, “We’ve waited long enough to make an entrance.”

“Of course, sirs,” The operator smiled politely, pulled the lever, and up they went.

It was nearly a thirty second ride, confirming the map in James’ head. The building itself was really four floors, though the Gala was only on the top two. The rooms he was looking for were in the small power station behind the building; he and Michael would have to get into the security office on the fourth floor once they’d switched clothes and he would climb into the dumbwaiter that would lead him down to the basement, where there was a series of tunnels that would take him to the office he was looking for. The dumbwaiter would help him bypass any of the no doubt guarded entrances and, hopefully, he would get away unseen.

James had the map memorized. Like a 3D picture in his head, he could see the layout of the building, the route he needed to take and how quickly he needed to take it.

The elevator finally opened, revealing the room to him, and, as they stepped forward and into the crowd of laughing, masked elites of Achievement City and the surrounding areas, James felt his resolve hardening.

He would get these goddamn files.

Gavin hadn’t let go of his arm and James didn’t try to pull it away, either. Instead, he let Gavin lead him to where he wanted to go and took in the room. It was an open floor plan, fancy but in that way, that made it look like it wasn’t fancy on purpose; high windows along the front wall with intricate white gating surrounding each pane like spider webs, tall trees with huge, waxy leaves decorating the edges of the room. One half had a high ceiling, a glass roof that showed the dark of the night but had sporadic lighting fixtures along the walls to keep the place well-lit in a soft, gentle glow. The other half of the room housed the bar, where waiters were disappearing and reappearing through a door and a few people were crowding around to order drinks that weren’t being circulated on trays by help dressed in red vests and red masks. The bar had a lower ceiling - still high, James wouldn’t be able to touch it even if he jumped - but the fourth floor of the building was above that half of the room. Upstairs, he knew, was a main lobby, the security office he and Michael would be breaking into, and a smaller room meant for private conversations. When he turned his head, he could see the curtain that cut off the nook he and Michael were meant to meet up in from view, close to the bar but far enough that they wouldn’t be walked in on if they were fast.

“Nearly two hundred people show up to this thing every year,” Gavin whispered, “We’re going to walk the floor for two minutes, I’m going to send you to get us drinks. My boi will be waiting for you. Good luck.”

“I’ll text when I’m done,” James said back, his voice muffled behind the mask. Gavin seemed to get the message, because he nodded and wrapped one of James’ arms low around his hips, and started to mingle.

As he led him through the crowd, picking up a flute of champagne for himself as he went, James took notice of the other party goers. Some, like Gavin, were dressed to the nines; fancy clothes and intricate masks, make up and falsely vapid expressions on the bits of the face that he _could_ see. Others, like the trio of people exchanging what looked to be a bag of fast food from Wendy’s and a soft drink amongst themselves, obviously had different ideas for what kind of party this could be. One was wearing what looked like a horrifying cartoon human’s face that pinged something in James’ memory, an old cartoon he may have seen a time or two; another with a flower for a head, red petals and a black center from which peaked out two eyes; the third in a skull mask similar to the Vagabond’s but with bat wings protruding from either side. All three were wearing jeans and tees. James would have felt overdressed but, standing just a few feet away, were two women in ball gowns straight out of some Victorian drama on the BBC with masks made of peacock feathers and gems, and a third dude in a sunset pink tux and a mask that was really just overly large sunglasses.

James dropped his eyes away from them all, shook himself out, and focused back on where Gavin was leading him.

Straight toward a small group of people dressed somewhat more traditionally for a business party - black tuxedos and navy blue suits, friendly looking but dead behind the eye that showed through their basic Phantom of the Opera style quarter masks that were held on by ribbon. Clients, then. James knew the type.

“Ah, gentlemen,” Gavin swept into the conversation, “Glad to see you all again.”

“Ah, Mister Free,” one of the men nodded in greeting, “Splendid as ever, I see. Gold does suit you.”

“I know,” Gavin laughed, “Your masks leave something to be desired for anonymity but I’m not one to talk, I suppose.”

“Ah, and presumably Mister Jones?” a second man turned his attention to James, sticking out a hand to shake, “Nice to see you again.”

James didn’t say anything, but he did shake the man’s hand when Gavin pinched his arm, even if he dropped it quickly. He wasn’t fond of touching people - let alone people he wasn’t even part of the same circle as, but he was _Michael_ right now.

When they’d all exchanged greetings, Gavin finally pressed a kiss to James’ cheek - pressure light through the mask but surely leaving a gold glittery kiss park on the pale of his mask - and nudged him.

“Michael, my boi, can you go get bevs? Talking business always requires bevs, don’t you think?”

James nodded, stepping away from the group when Gavin let him go, and then turned and started for the bar.

He sidestepped someone who tried to stop him, turned sideways to squeeze through two groups of business woman talking amongst themselves in both pantsuits and extravagant dresses, nearly lost his mask to a handsy drunk person, but managed to keep a tight hold on his hat and mask both as he got to the bar. With a final look around to make sure no one was looking, he slipped behind the curtain and into the little nook that Gavin had pointed out to him.

There, standing impatiently in white slacks nearly identical to James’ and a red vest and mask, was Michael.

“Finally,” Michael scoffed, reaching up to undo his mask, “I’ve been waiting forever.”  
“You’ve been waiting five minutes,” James pointed out, pulling his hat off and then his mask and setting them on the table so he could strip out of his jacket and bowtie and accept the vest and mask Michael handed over. He slipped the vest on and then took his hair down so he could retie it into a loose bun at the base of his neck and, while he was tying the ribbon of the mask on, looked Michael over.

The suit fit him close to how it had fit James, a little looser at the buttons and not quite big enough at the biceps; but the hat and mask did their job and James didn’t think anyone would be able to tell that they had switched places.

Michael picked up a tray of champagne flutes and James accepted it easily, peeking around the curtain to see if anyone had noticed that they were behind it yet. No one was looking their way.

“We’re going to take these drinks back to Gav,” Michael said quietly, “And then you’re going to follow me upstairs and we’re going to get into the security office. I’ll wipe the cameras after you get down to the basement, and then you’re on your own.”

“I know.” James nodded, “I told Gavin I’d text him when I was done.”

“Good. You’ve got your timer set?”

James held up his wristwatch in answer.

Michael nodded, straightened his bowtie and then asked, voice muffled behind the full mask, “I look okay?”

“Good.” James repeated back at him, looking around the curtain again, “I’m ready.”

Michael motioned for him to go forward so James left the nook, drink tray in hand. He wandered slow, let Michael take the lead, and made it back to the group that Gavin had joined - now at least twice as big - maybe five minutes after he’d left.

“There you are!” Gavin turned away from the man who’d been talking, smiling wide at them both, “And you brought a whole waiter, how thoughtful.”

“Your drinks,” James held out the tray and - within seconds - all six flutes were gone.

“Thank you, love,” Gavin winked at him and took a sip. It was his second, his first nowhere to be found, but James wasn’t worried about it. Gavin knew his limits.

“I’m going upstairs,” Michael motioned toward the stairway in the corner of the room, “Heard some of my favorite distributors are up there. You good down here?”

“Top,” Gavin patted his arm, “Have fun, boi,”

“Yeah, you too,” Michael gave the group surrounding Gavin a hard look, like he was dressing them down without words, and then he turned to James, “You. Got anything harder than bubbly around here?”

“Uh,” James hesitated, “The upstairs bar serves whiskey.”

“Perfect. Come with me, you can take our orders.” Michael squeezed Gavin’s shoulder one last time and then turned and started walking. He didn’t check to see if James was following - but James was. No one paid them any mind; Gavin was the star, bright as a diamond and distracting. Nearly everyone in the room was at least occasionally glancing his way; he naturally pulled the eye to his performance. If James weren’t in such a hurry, he would have stood aside and been impressed for a moment.

There was a guard stationed at the bottom of the stairs, and another at the top but, luckily, facing into the main lobby with his back to the security room. James followed Michael’s lead, looked confident and like he was meant to be there. They walked passed the first guard without a problem and James was just beginning to think they would get into the room with ease when the guard at the top of the stairs shifted position suddenly, moving to stand at the door of the security office smoothly as they approached.

Michael stopped midway up, turning back to James and shifting the mask to the side so he could lean down to whisper, “Go with me, okay?”

“Yeah,” James agreed easily, feeling a nervous energy filling his gut. If he had to kill that guard to get into the room, he would.

“Good.” Michael stood straight back up, fixed his mask, and then grabbed James’ hand and laced their fingers together. James, surprised, limply followed, unsure of what exactly he was doing until they reached the stop of the stairs and Michael looked around like he was trying to find something before turning his head back to the security office and the guard.

He dragged James after him, until they were so close to the door that the guard couldn’t help but notice. He wasn’t wearing a tank like the doorman had, but his suit jacket was loose. He could maneuver easily in it, if he had to.

“Hey,” Michael dropped his voice, shoving his mask aside for a moment so he could speak properly, “What room is this?”

“Security office, sir,” the guard said stoically, not taking notice of James or their intertwined hands, “It’s a no access zone, sir.”

“Every private area is a no access zone,” Michael cursed, squeezing James hand, and James got the message. He pressed closer to Michael’s back, looked over his shoulder at the guard and laid his hands on Michael’s hips. Michael pressed back into him, and James could see the feral grin that licked up the sides of his mouth, “Hey, bud, how’s about I give you a few Benjis and you let my friend and I into this no access zone for...fifteen minutes?”

He turned his head, glanced at James, and then smirked wider, “Make that twenty.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” The guard said, but he was beginning to look uncomfortable, “I can’t,”

“Come on,” James grumbled, frowning and dropping his voice so it seemed like they were having more of a private conversation, “Don’t be a cockblock, dude. Twenty minutes. Do you know who this _is_?”

“Yeah,” Michael pulled his wallet out of his pants pocket and slipped out four hundred dollar bills, folding them up tight and grabbing the guard’s hand to press them in, “Just twenty minutes for a little...alone time, man.”

“I...I guess,” The guard glanced between them, then at the four hundreds in his hand, “Fine. Fine, twenty minutes, _tops_. Make it quick.”

“Oh,” Michael fixed his mask, “Quickies are my specialty,”

“I hope so,” James checked his watch, “I can’t be gone long, I’ve got a job to do, you know?”

“Get inside,” The guard grumbled motioning them in quickly, “Before _I_ get in trouble.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks, man,” Michael patted the guard’s arm as he passed and James gave him a thumbs-up before shutting the door and flicking the lock.

When he turned around, back pressed against the dark wood, Michael was smirking at him. He rolled his eyes, gave him the bird, and ripped the mask off.

“Shut up,” He whispered, and Michael didn’t say a word - but James could feel his smugness coming off in waves.

Michael couldn’t hold it back for long though and, while James was pushing aside a curtain to reveal the dumbwaiter used to carry heavy items from the basement to the other floors, he broke his silence, “Wait until I tell your fucking crew,”

“Don’t you dare,” James snapped, shoving his mask into his pocket and checking his watch. He still had six minutes left on his twenty-minute start, “Don’t even start with me.”

Michael hummed an affirmative, but he was still grinning too wide for James’ satisfaction.

“You fucking suck, Jones.”

“We’d better hurry,” Michael laughed, “Wouldn’t want to get in trouble.”

“Shut up,” He said again, and then forced the doors of the dumbwaiter open so he could climb in, “You’re gonna have to kill that guard.”

“Don’t worry about him.” Michael waved him away, finally losing the smirk, “I’ll take care of it.”

He grabbed the controller hanging off to the side of the dumbwaiter, looked it over, and then nodded, “Yeah, I’m ready when you are.”

“Great,” James took a deep breath and then climbed into the dumbwaiter. It was a tight squeeze - the machine was meant for boxes of alcohol and supplies, not fully grown men - but he made it work, scrunching into a ball and tucking his arms in close. “Okay. Beam me down, Scotty.”

“You’re a fucking nerd,” Michael hesitated, “Good luck.”

“Same to you,” James nodded as best he could, “But, seriously, get me going; this is uncomfortable as fuck.”

Michael scoffed at him, mutter “Bitch,” and then pulled the doors to the dumbwaiter mostly closed - leaving a crack just wide enough for James to wedge his fingers in when it was time to exit - and shut James into a small box of darkness. It heated up quickly, between the small space and James’ body heat, and he was already sweating by the time the machine was moving - a slow grind as he was steadily lowered. His heart was hammering, he was doing his best not to think about _that._

He spent a long time in that cube of darkness. It may have only been a few minutes to the outside word but alone with his own thoughts, uncomfortable with a cramp slowly beginning to make itself known in his calf, James grew old and died in that darkness hundreds of times. He thought about a lot in his attempt to avoid thinking about _before_ ; his crew, Aleks, his life, his decisions, what had led him to this moment. Had cursed and blessed every god or goddess he could think of, contemplated exactly how high up he was and how stupid of an idea this was, forced himself not to panic because he was doing this for Aleks. He’d regretted the argument with Brett and agreed that he should have stuck with Fake Chop and reaffirmed his position and yelled at Brett all over again for being so stubborn and refusing to see where he was coming from both by the time he reached the bottom, had replayed the argument except if Aleks had been there; wished, not for the first time, that it had been him taken and not Aleks. It had happened before, he could _handle it_ , and the thought that Aleks was possibly going through the same things that he had was really enough to throw him into a panic, nearly had him hyperventilating inside the dumbwaiter before it finally came to a standstill and he forced his fingers into the wedge Michael had left for them and pried the mouth of the machine open so he could fall out onto his knees, gasping for air and trying to get rid of the dread that had filled his lungs at the same time.

He pressed his forehead to his hands on the floor, sore and stiff shoulders heaving, eyes burning; this was the first time he was really losing it since Aleks had called him and it couldn’t have happened at a worse time. It was a hole in his gut, the fear; what they could be doing to Aleks; if Aleks was even alive; if they were trying to get him out of the country or if they weren’t going to bother keeping him alive that long; if Aleks believed him and knew he was coming; if Aleks thought he was alone now and that James had abandoned him, as alone as _James_ had felt when he’d been taken and hurt. James had done a lot of things that had come back to bite him in the ass later, but he hadn’t thought that not occasionally assuring Aleks that - were he to be kidnapped - he wouldn’t be forgotten or left behind was one of them. But Aleks had had to _ask him_ , and James had thought Aleks had _known_.

That...that was a lie. James _had_ known that Aleks still had no idea how James felt. He’d purposefully kept it that way because he was a coward. Maybe if he hadn’t been such gutless fuck, Aleks would have just _assumed_ that James would come for him and called Trevor instead and he would be _home,_ now. Still at James’ house, looking at him in that way that not even Joe did; like James was an idiot, but not a monster pretending to be human. Aleks looked at James, sometimes, like he was something special, like he didn’t know exactly how wrapped around his finger James was. Like James was something worth looking at.

“ _Fuck_ ,” James hissed, punching the ground so hard he felt something crack painfully in his knuckles. The pain stung sharp, a hard ache setting in that put him on edge, but it forced him to stop wasting time, frozen with regret and panic on his knees in a dark, empty basement. He didn’t have _time_ to regret - and he didn’t have time to throw a pity party, either.

He got up, shook his hand out and ignored the thought that he may have broken a finger. He pulled the iPhone from his pocket, checked the map that showed where, exactly, this service tunnel started, and then headed for it with a grim determination.

It was a now-defunct tunnel they found when researching; a new one had been built - bigger and safer - and this one had been left behind. It was hidden by a pile of heavy boxes that took him too long to move but, once he did, he was able to get a hold of the wheel that would unlock the latch and twist.

It was rusted, unused to being moved, and he strained against it until, with a loud squeal that had his blood running cold, it gave so fast he nearly toppled over. It took two more twists of the wheel for a click to give away that the latch had unlocked. He pulled it open by the handles on the side and, as it swung open to reveal a tunnel barely big enough for him to crawl through, he felt the first strings of hesitation.

He didn’t do well in small or dark spaces. For one thing, he was a sniper. He needed enough room to maneuver, he needed to be able to stretch out. This...wasn’t something he was comfortable with. For another...well. He hadn’t done good in the dark in a while.

He reached into his pocket to pull out his phone, sliding down the menu and turning the flashlight on. He shined it into the tunnel, holding his breath and swallowing down the fear. It was a tunnel - he knew how long it was. He’d be out in ten minutes if he crawled fast.

He glanced down to turn his flashlight off and had to stop to take in his background. It was a picture of Ein, staring up at the camera with a familiar dog grin, his red sheets the background to her. In the corner, almost out of frame, there was a socked foot - black Adidas - peeking out from under the mused sheets.

He turned the flashlight off, shoved the phone in his pocket, stripped off his mask and hid it in one of the boxes he’d moved earlier.

“For Aleks.” He said out loud, to remind himself of why the fuck he was doing this, and then ducked in, narrowed his shoulders, and climbed inside. He hooked the latch with his foot and pulled it shut behind him. He heard it click shut, though it didn’t lock, and he was bathed in darkness again.

He was about to curse and pull his phone out again to light the way, feeling his throat constricting, but, before he’d figured out how exactly he was gonna crawl with his phone in his hand, lights flickered on along the top of the tunnel.

They were weak, lighting his way with a watery, grimy amber - electricity barely making it through to old, disused bulbs covered in dust and dirt. Some didn’t work at all; others, when he squinted, had shattered and the ground of the tunnel was littered with shards of broken glass.

Jesus _fucking_ Christ.

Thinking of that socked foot, and what he was going to do to Aleks when he got his fucking hands on him for putting James through this, he started to crawl.

He was careful when he reached the end of the first tunnel, sweeping the broken glass aside to clear the way with his arm. He had mostly cleared the path and was setting his arm down at the intersection so he could try to remember which way he was supposed to go, when a sharp piece embedded itself into his knee. He hadn’t seen it, or had just stopped being cautious as he was thinking, and the pain was sudden and sharp enough to make him yelp and lift his leg up, glancing down to see blood immediately seep into the white of his suit.

 _Ruined_ , he couldn’t help but think and reached down to see if he could pull the shard out.

It wasn’t overly large, barely half a finger nail’s worth, but he felt it leave his knee and he closed his eyes against the pain. Instead of worrying about more glass, he let the pain focus him. It was punishment, in a way. He’d always known that his decisions would come back get their revenge. You can’t hurt as many people as he did and get away with it. In a way, if all he had to do was crawl through some glass to find Aleks, then he would do it. At this point, it was the least he deserved.

More glass bit into him when he started moving again, turning right at the intersection of the tunnel. At some point between one second and the next, he stopped feeling it. The light was too grimy for him to notice the red slowly staining his dress shirt, the tacky heat against his skin, the pain and soreness. One arm in front of the other, one knee after the next.

He turned left again at the next intersection, tried to go faster because the pain was finally beginning to soak into his mind, making his arms and legs shake, and then had to stop and recover from that monumentally stupid decision.

When he’d taken a moment to get himself back under control, staring at the rusted ground he was crawling on and repeating Aleks’ name like a mantra, a reminder that helped him fight through the panic, he started to move again. His lungs didn’t feel like they were working; he hadn’t taken a proper inhale since before he’d crawled into the tunnel, but he couldn’t make himself.

He turned left, hoping that he hadn’t taken a wrong turn somewhere and got lost in the tunnel system.

It was on his fourth tunnel that he finally saw the exit. He tried to reach it fast, but had to stop again a few feet away and yell in frustration at himself for needing to pause. Finally, finally, he rolled out of the tunnel and his stomach dropped at the feet of open air he was in until he landed on the ground with a dull thud and curled in on himself against the pain for as long as he could spare.

His arms and legs were a mess, his knees a nasty stain of dirt, blood, and glass that he did his best to brush away with his bloody hands. His arms weren’t much better, so he tried to brush them off too. He pushed himself up with a grunt of effort, breathing heavy but finally able to convince his body to move again, and looked around.

He was in a small room, a connector hole with a few large pipes protruding from the cement walls. The only way out that he could see was up, where a manhole was rusted over, and an opening to a metal pipe or tunnel. It was angled downward, no lights that he could see, like a fucked up slide.

“I do not want to do this.” He rubbed his face, and then stuck his legs down the slide, crossed his arms across his chest, and pushed off.

He went down fast, yelling _woooooooah_ the whole time, banging against the curves of the walls hard enough that he lifted his arms to protect his head instead of his chest, and then flew out of the fucking pipe so hard that he went into a barrel roll feet first, skidding across the ground like a skipping stone before he finally came to a stop a few feet from the opening.

His ankles were throbbing, still not recovered from the intensity of his bailing from Brett’s car, and his head was beginning to pulse starting from his temples and radiating into his spine.

He groaned, rolling onto his stomach, ignoring the twinge of pain from his sides. His knees protested resting his weight against them as he pushed off the ground, but a loud buzzing and bright lights from beside him caught enough of his attention that he stopped noticing his knees.

When he set up to look, his mouth dropped open.

It was a grid of electrical condensers. He’d known that the land they were on, whoever it belonged to, powered itself; but he hadn’t been expecting...this level of power.

He pulled the iPhone out to check the map, found his place and, with a muffled groan of frustration behind a bitten lip, he realized that he’d have to go through the grid to get to the office on the other side. There was a door leading out, but that just took him back to the surface and, regardless, it was located on the other side of the grid, too. The only other way into the office was through an upstairs door that was, without a single fucking doubt, guarded to the nines.

At least this explained why Gavin’s source had said there would be no guards. Because someone would have to _jungle gym their way through some electrical condensers_ to get to it.

With a sense of growing hatred for _everything_ , he stepped off the edge of the platform so he could reach the condensers, his ankles giving out from under him and forcing him to catch himself on his cut-up palms.

All of the condensers were connected by thick black wires, sparking dangerously. He had a feeling that if he ran into too many of those, he wouldn’t be running anywhere afterward.

“Okay,” He breathed out, hyping himself up a little, and then he ducked his head and picked at random because he had to start somewhere. Before he did anything, though, he pulled his phone and the iPhone out and stripped out of his vest so he could bundle them inside. To either side of the grid, there was a small space that wasn’t _electrocuted_. It was too small for him to squeeze through but he aimed as best he could and lightly tossed the vest-wrapped phones across the room, where they would hopefully be safe on the - very high - chance that he got fried like a fish.

The second to the right seemed like his safest bet, so he carefully - so slow he was barely moving - crouched low to the ground and shuffled under the worst of the wires. Making it to the middle of four condensers, he took a moment to compose himself and then went forward to the next one, ducking through the middle only to lose his balance when his knee buckled and land on his back with a hard _oomph_.

He caught himself before he fell into the next batch of wires and, heart hammering in his chest, he froze to collect his thoughts and think it through.

He tried for the one in front of him, hoping to go in a straight line to his target, but caught his leg against the wire and the next thing he knew, he was on the fucking ground and shaking so hard he couldn’t even blink his eyes.

“M-m-motherf- _fucker_ ,” He stared up at the ceiling, his body still shuddering a little. His leg burned like fire, and then settled into a numbness that he didn’t think was good in the long run but helped in the _now_.

For a few seconds after he scrambled up, he contemplated trying to get through that particular set of wires again but, when apprehension nearly choked him out, he turned around and went back through the way he’d come so he was back in the first square of wires he’d started out in. A different route then.

He went left, pressed as close to the left of the wires as he could and ducked under them until he was in the next square and was able to crawl under the new batch of wires in front of him. He was nearly through when his foot caught on a low wire again and he convulsed so hard he bit his tongue.

Blood filled his mouth and he screwed his eyes shut in pain, but he made it through and dragged his legs up to his chest, curling in on himself again like a recently sprayed spider. When his body had stopped randomly spasming, he spat out the blood and got up again. Just…Just a little more.

He stepped over a low wire to his left again, swung his body through the middle of them all and he landed on his ass again but it was better than being a new conduit.

He almost went forward again but thought better of it and didn’t bother standing up, just dropped to his belly and squirmed to his right, below the wires. He knew he’d been shocked before he felt it, but it was weaker than the last two, barely enough to make him yelp, and he rolled away from the wires and laid still for a long moment, just gasping.

His body hurt. His head heart. His vision was blurry.

He tried to go through the wall of wires in front of him but his hand make firm contact with one of the wires and he _screamed_ as the electricity cut through him. He couldn’t let go of the wire for a long eternity, and then he was on the ground, dizzy enough that he almost threw up, his mouth tasting like blood.

He tried again, delirious. All he could think of was Aleks.

He was weak from pain. His chest hurt. He could barely see. This was all very familiar, though the electricity was new.

When he brushed against the wire again, he nearly lost consciousness, shaking so hard that he bit his tongue again but couldn’t even scream.

He couldn’t move for a long time after, his fingers and toes twitching, his stomach twisting until he had to turn on his stomach and gag.

He pushed onto his hands and needs, shaking, and forced himself to stagger to his feet.

 _Focus_ , he thought as loudly as he could, making himself stare at the wall of wires in front of him until they made sense.

This time, he was careful. As careful as he could be, with shaking limbs and spasming fingers. Thank God he’d pissed before he’d left the penthouse or his pants would have been fucking soaked. He crawled the rest of the way through, his body stiff and his brain yelling at him for making such a stupid decision as to go through the _maze_ that was this grid.

For Aleks. It was all for Aleks, and he just had to keep thinking that.

He made it, finally, and, with only one more wall of wires separating him from his goal, he threw himself through it with a barrel roll that had him on the ground and nearly crying from relief - but he wasn’t convulsing and he wasn’t a new conduit for electricity, and that was enough for him to laugh.

He’d done it.

He’d _done it_.

When he looked back across the grid, it was like he was looking into death; and he’d survived it.

He didn’t let himself celebrate for long. He still had a lot of work to do.

When he tried to walk, it was a limp - but a limp was better than a crawl and he felt lucky to be walking at all.

The first thing he did was go to find the vest and phones. They’d _almost_ made it, and he carefully reached around the condenser to hook the red material in his fingers and drag it to him, where he unwrapped it quickly to check on the phones. His own screen had cracked even more, and a spider web had started on the edge of the iPhone - but both still worked. He breathed in a hard gasp of relief, shoved the phones in his pocket with the hand that wasn’t covered in a slowly blistering burn, and quietly stepped down the hallway that transitioned from hard concrete to a more modern wooden look. As he’d known, there were two doors: one led to the surface, a small garden shed connected to the back of the hall, by the kitchens; the other led to the office.

He pressed his ear to the office door and, hearing nothing after nearly three minutes of silence, checked to see if it was locked. It was.

Without bothering to even try to pick it, having nothing to pick with except a bobby pin in his hair, he lifted his leg and rammed his foot into the handle until it snapped off and then he stood, facing the door, and kicked the jam until the door gave with a splintering snap, swinging open to give him access to the room.

It hadn’t been pretty; was louder than necessary, maybe; but he didn’t give a single _shit_.

It was empty, but he doubted that there wouldn’t be some sort of silent alarm tripped - if not by the door being kicked in, then by him stepping inside, so he didn’t hesitate.

The office looked relatively normal.

There was a large cabinet full of alcohol and a small bar in front of it and fire place with two comfortable looking high-back chairs and a circular rug with a coffee table on it. Across the room was a big, expensive looking desk that James probably could have used as a bed for how big it was and to either side of it, against the wall, were two big filing cabinets straight out of an old 80s’ movie.

It was warmly decorated, like someone spent a lot of time in it. Probably whoever ran that damn Gala.

He’d memorized the file names, he knew what he was looking for, so he immediately went to the cabinets. They were, of course, locked. This, at least, would be a little easier to deal with. He glanced at the desk, found some paper clips within easy access, and quickly bent them into the shape he needed. His blistering hand was useless, but he could at least curl the fingers enough to hold one clip in place while his other hand twisted the second clip into the correct shape. He was fast now that he was hyper focused, the lock clicking open in a few seconds, and he pulled the first drawer out and started to riffle through them.

He was looking for six files in total, including Gavin’s request, and he managed to find A. Calensk and A. Dimitri in the first drawer. He didn’t bother looking inside, just set them aside and estimated where the K, V, and P sections would be located so he could collect the last of the files for the old bitch.

Three minutes later and he’d grabbed all of the files he’d needed for her, but hadn’t spotted the Fake AH Crew’s folder yet.

He checked his watch - five fucking minutes left before he needed to get the fuck out of here - and then went to the other folder and started picking locks.

The place had been silent the whole time he was in it but, while he was tabbing through the second drawer of the second cabinet, he finally heard voices - muffled through the doors that he’d nearly killed himself to avoid. It was possible that he’d kicked the door in during a guard rotation, and that’s why he’d managed to get away with it, but he wasn’t going to question his luck.

With confirmation that there were guards out there, he finally found the files he was looking for - thick, nearly the size of all five of the individual files combined, and heavy. Holding them all tight in his arms, he discarded the paperclips and quietly made his way out of the office. There was nothing he could do about the door he’d kicked open; they’d know he was there the moment the other door opened. Instead of worrying about it, he closed it as best he could with his free hand and left it be.

The other door at the end of the beginning of the hall was also locked, and it got the same treatment as its neighbor. His leg was shaky, wobbling under his weight from all the force he’d been using it with, but he just had _a little more_ to go before he was free.

The door opened up to a flight of stairs, which he took two at a time until his thighs protested hard enough that he reduced his speed. He was shaking so hard he had trouble unlocking his phone by the time he reached the top and came out into the garden shed. He knew that there would be guards at the door, a cursory watch since no one was supposed to know about the way through the grid and tunnel, least of all someone who could actually get through it; but they would be too much for him to handle on his own at this point.

Instead of fighting his way out, he collapsed as quietly as possible into a dark corner and pulled out his phone to text Gavin and Michael.

In a group message, he sent ‘ _im out_ ’ with a minute to spare on his time, and then waited for this grand distraction.

Nearly five minutes passed with no response and James was starting to get impatient enough that he was contemplating calling one of them when the screaming started.

“What’s going on,” He heard one of the guards in front of the shed say, and there was no response that he could hear but they must have got some sort of answer because the guard said, “Jesus, they targeted _Hawk_? We need to get inside!”

“But our post -” The second guard started, only to be shouted down.

“Someone just assassinated Mike Hawk, man! _Let’s go_!”

“Yes, ma’am!” The second guard stuttered and James heard them run off, screams still filling the air.

Slowly, disbelieving, James left the shed, peeking through the door just to confirm the coast was clear.

It was.

“Nova,” Someone said, making him jump hard enough that he nearly dropped his files. Jeremy materialized out of seemingly nowhere, dropping off the roof of the shed as if he’d spent his whole life dropping off fucking roofs with ease, and reached out to steady James when he started to sway.

“Jesus,” Jeremy snatched his hands back, looking down at the blood and glass shards that had come off of his shirt, “What the _fuck_ happened?”

“Let’s go,” James shook his head, and took a step. His ankle rolled out from under him and Jeremy caught him before he could properly go down but it was a close call and nowhere near any less painful than if he’d just hit the dirt.

“Brownman,” Jeremy said quietly, barely a whisper, and suddenly there was another person with them. Brownman, sans sniper rifle but still in his familiar purple jacket, who took the files with a raised eyebrow.

“You got fucked up, yo,”

“Shut up,” James tried to take another step and, with Jeremy taking most of his weight, he was able to, “I need to call…”

He reached into his pocket, panicked hard enough that he nearly threw up his stomach when he didn’t find the phone, only to realize it was in his other pocket.

“That can wait until you aren’t bleedin’ out, my guy,” Jeremy said, but he wasn’t James’ concern.

He yanked the iPhone out, wiping the blood off his fingers - and shit, he’d left so much blood all over the goddamn place, on all of the files and in the office and tunnel - so he could unlock it and press the only number on the contact list.

It rang three times but James wasn’t fooled this time. She answered before the last ring ended.

“You have succeeded.”

“I got your...goddamn files,” He hissed, “Tell me what to do now.”

“I have man,” She said, not sounding at all bothered by the pain in his voice, “He waits at the Vinewood sign, below the ‘v’. He will be there until dawn.”

“And he’ll give me my next clue?”

“In exchange for the proper files, yes.” She agreed, “Is that all?”

“I almost died for these fucking files, you bitch!”

She scoffed, “Did you not think you would be pushed to your limits, boy? Aleksandr is no small prize easily won.”

He hung up instead of answering.

“Vinewood sign,” He repeated, glaring at the iPhone and resisting the urge to smash it. Who the fuck did she think she was talking to? Aleks wasn’t a _prize_. “Can I borrow a bike?”

Brownman laughed - a sudden bark that had James jumping in surprise again, feeling vulnerable and overstimulated and tired and in pain all at once.

“You’d fall out of a car seat right now, buddy,” Brownman patted his shoulder and started walking, files in his arms securely, “Nice try. We’ll drive you.”

Jeremy helped James to a car parked in the shadows of the foliage, a sleek black Challenger that only fit four people as far as James knew - until Jeremy opened the door and Brownman slipped into the backseat, where he and Gavin were able to share a spot. Michael set next to him, an impatient look on his face and blood splattered across the white of his suit.

“You look like you murdered a guy.” James couldn’t help but say, grunting in pain when Jeremy helped him drop into the front seat and slammed the door on him.

“I did. What’s your excuse?” Michael said back, and he had James there.

“Crawled through some glass. Walked through some live wires. Broke some doors. The usual,” He leaned back, hissing again at just the sheer amount of fuckary he was going to have to endure while he was healing up, once Aleks was home. Tomorrow was going to be literal hell.

“Shit, man.” Michael said, “Sounds like a job for someone like Lil J. You know, the small and fast types.”  
James didn’t answer that, instead choosing to pick up the files Brownman had dropped on the seat next to him. He knew a few small and fast types. Two, actually; who would have quite easily made it through both the tunnels and the grid _and_ all of the locks with a lot more grace than him.

But it was over with now. What was done was done. Anna and Asher were hours away, in a different city; probably pissed as hell at him. He wondered if they would have even answered his call.

Instead of thinking anymore about them, he looked at the files he’d just risked his life for.

“This is yours, Gavin,” He mumbled, handing the Fakes’ file to Jeremy once he was seated in the driver’s seat so he could hand them to Gavin in the back. James would have done it himself, but he was pretty sure he would have paced out if he’d tried to twist in any way. “As for these…”

The Vinewood sign was at least an hour away. He had time to google some people up.

-

Shae Piersovska was a Ukrainian diplomat known for her humanitarian work. She also spent millions on cocaine smuggled to and from Kazakhstan and through Russia’s mainland. Another diplomat, Kordon Kallo was not well liked by many of the Russian government-types that he associated with due to his tendencies to take bribes from the wrong people; there were three hits on he and his family, hoping to remove him from his office before he negotiated a trade deal with some fuckers from Norway.

Arstotzka Calensk was a highly-regarded military man turned warden; not as known by the international world as the diplomats, he oversaw a large prison in Russia and was, apparently, incarcerating people for private payment. A. Dimitri and M. Vonel were both highly paid government workers in influential positions who were getting up to some nasty shit with the skin trade.

Whoever got their hands on these files...Well, James had a feeling that if the authorities got hold of them, then all five of these assholes would be going to jail for a long, long time.

The Vinewood sign got worse the closer they drove. From afar, it was almost mystical - lit up in bright lights, iconic in both stature and reputation.

Closer up, the paint was tacky and needed to be redone, the metal was beginning to rust, and small chunks of it were missing from countless instances of abuse by drunk kids and fuckers like the Fakes. Jeremy took the car as close to the sign as the road would go, and then went off road with it, too.

The headlights lit the way as they drove slowly, James’ eyes heavy lidded but unable to truly fall until he had his next clue. He hurt, and sitting still long enough for it all to finally settle had been a _mistake_ , but there was nothing he could do. He could hear light snoring behind him, Brownman having fallen into a light sleep literally minutes after they’d fled the scene of James’ breaking and entering and Nice Dynamite’s assassination of the mayor of Achievement City, while Michael and Gavin were talking quietly amongst themselves. Jeremy had chimed in every now and then, but the ride had otherwise been quiet.

The ride now was bumpy, the road meant for runners and bikes but not a four-wheeled vehicle carting around five bloody and tired men, and it aggravated James’ injuries more than he’d like to admit, but he put up with it.

Just a little while longer, and he’d be another step closer to Aleks.

The headlights lit up the Vinewood sign a moment later and Jeremy pulled to a stop a few yards away; plenty of room for James to push the door open and slowly, painfully pull himself out. None of the others offered to help; they knew the drill. If someone was only expecting James and someone else showed their face, well...They’d all been part of deals that had gone sour.

He managed to get out of the car, though, and clutched the bloody files close to his chest as he looked around.

“Yo!” He called out, when no one came forward, “Come get your fucking papers, please!”

Still, no one showed until he’d wandered closer to the ‘v’, and then a small figure in a dark green _cloak_ and a white mask with pale blue marks around the left eye socket and a nose painted on came into the lights illuminating the sign enough for James to make them out.

“Give me the clue.” James demanded, holding his non-burnt hand out. The blisters and wounds of his burns had had time to fester and were...more painful than he wanted to think about. He just wanted the paper so he could go soak in a cold bath until the sting was leached away.

“Files.” The figure demanded in return, their voice hidden by a modulator.

“Trade,” James said after a moment of thought, transferring the files to his good hand so he could keep a good grip on them and then offering his burnt hand for the clue.

The figure produced another origami animal from their sleeve. James couldn’t tell what it was until the figure had snatched the files and left the origami piece behind. While he was looking the folded lizard over, the figure disappeared again.

He limped back to the car, collapsed into his seat and carefully closed the door.

Stared at the lizard in his hand.

“You gonna open it, love?” Gavin asked after they’d set in silence for a full minute while James stared.

“Yeah.” James swallowed, “Yes.”

Carefully, he unfolded the lizard.

He read the message, crushed it tight in his good hand, and finally let out the frustrated scream he’d been holding back for hours.

 


	3. The Lizard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AS ALWAYS: thank u to [kenn](http://allrighthello.tumblr.com/), [tay](http://nealinator.tumblr.com/), and [phoenix](http://amanduh-hess.tumblr.com/), i yell at u guys about this dumb fic too much but thanks for listening <3
> 
> YOU WANNA KNOW WHO IS STUPID?? ITS ME!!!!!!  
> i accidentally titled and gave last chapter the lizard gif even tho it was actually the butterfly chapter and THIS ONE was the lizard chapter. IM SO SORRY FOR THE CONFUSION. it has been FIXED and, also as always, PLS go tell [phoenix](http://amanduh-hess.tumblr.com/) how amazing his edits are!!!!!!
> 
> you can find me at on [Tumblr](http://the-cockbite-syndicate.tumblr.com/) if you'd like! I post fake/gta!au stuff :)

The thing about leaving was that James had thought about it, of course he had, but he never would have done it had Aleks not tried to, first.

“Shut up,” James hushed him, pinning him to the cabinet like if he held on hard enough Aleks wouldn’t leave, his brain moving so fast he could barely think straight. He hadn’t...expected this. Not from Aleks. His last resort, the only thing he _knew_ would make Aleks give in came to him sudden and fast and he said it without hesitation, “Stay, Aleks. For me. A little longer. I swear to you; it’s _going_ to get better.”

Aleks, after a moment, banged his head on the cupboard behind him and James watched the way his body gave in. He let himself be shoved away, took Aleks’ hissed out _I hate you_ in stride. Because Aleks had given him some time, and Aleks felt a lot of things for James but he knew _hate_ wasn’t one of them.

He needed to talk to Jordan and Dan. A few months. Aleks had promised him a few months to fix this.

He spent the night with Aleks; he told himself it was because he’d be an idiot to pass up a chance to touch Aleks’ warm skin, get slick and sweaty and release some of the tension that staying in the safe house for so long with people he was pissed as hell at had built up in him. Later, months later, he could admit that he’d done it because that thought of letting Aleks sleep in a room that he wasn’t in, that Aleks could slip away in the night like Sly had, had terrified something in the core of him.

He had to wait, though. Nearly two months he waited before he finally caught Jordan alone. None of them were ever alone now; they’d all drawn sides on some sort of invisible line that James hadn’t drawn himself but knew he’d helped to create. Dan seemed oblivious to it, or pretended to be, but James had noticed that Jordan had been watching him when he thought that James wasn’t looking. Had been looking at Aleks with something akin to suspicion.

“Look, if we just -”

“James!” Jordan finally lost his patience, “What the fuck are you talking about? We don’t have the funds for that - Cockbite is _watching us_ right now, if we try to do something so drastic -”

“The Hub is _dying_ , Koots!” James yelled back, cutting him off, “If we don’t get some new lines open, some new clients, then we’re not going to last five years, Jesus _Christ_ , will you just listen to me!?”

“Where the fuck is this even coming from, Nova?” Jordan stood up from his desk and James followed suit from the couch he’d been pretending to lounge in, “You’ve never shown an interest in peddling before; heists and arms have always been enough for you.”

“Ice and E are where it’s at,” James pointed emphatically at a metaphorical _it_ , “We aren’t bringing any money in; we’re bleeding out and people are leaving. We have to do something, before we lose _more_ people,”

“So, that’s what this is about.” Jordan scoffed, shaking his head and turning around so his back was to James, “ _Immortal_ wants to leave.”

“Are you listening to me? This isn’t about _Aleks_ -”

“It’s _always_ about Aleks with you!” Jordan snapped back, whirling back around to glare, “James, did he fucking ask you to leave with him?”

“Jordan,” James took a deep breath. He resisted the first impulse to defend himself, couldn’t lose his cool here; they had to work something out. “This _isn’t about Aleks_. This is about the Hub and the fact that it’s not going to be a goddamn hub for much longer if we don’t come up with some way to get things picking up again.”

“If you can look me in the eye and tell me that Immortal _didn’t_ ask you to leave with him,” Jordan stared at him, narrowed eyes and tense shoulders, “That you came to talk to me about this _completely unprompted_ , and you aren’t just worried because you’re trying to keep Immortal here. Then we can talk about this.”

James could have lied.

He could have said, “No, he didn’t.” or “I’m talking about this because I don’t want to watch the thing I’ve been building with you for six years crumble.”

He could have said, “This has nothing to do with Aleks,” again.

He didn’t say anything.

Jordan set back down, his face falling.

“That’s what I thought. We haven’t fucked with this drugs in a long time, and we aren’t starting back up again now. Not so close to Cockbite taking us on - competition would be too much.”

“Jordan!” James started to argue, but Jordan stopped him with a hand. James, shocked at the _gall_ , stopped talking.

“Aleks makes you impulsive.” Jordan said quietly, “He makes you take risks that you can’t afford to take. He’s going to get you killed one day, trying to show off to him, or _you’re_ going to get _him_ killed, talking him into one of your _risks_ ,”

“Shut the hell up,” James couldn’t help but sneer, “You have no idea what you’re even talking about. Aleks didn’t ask me to leave, you fuck, he told me he _couldn’t_ ask me to leave you after so long! You have no idea what he’s like - you barely know him. You barely know _me_ , now. I barely know _you_.”

“You two aren’t good for each other, I know that fucking much,” Jordan shook his head, “You’re _dangerous_ for each other - and not in a good way. You push each other and you’re going to go sailing over the edge together if you stay with him. You’re going to destroy each other - and then who’s going to be there for you if you get taken again, huh?”

“ _Fuck you_ ,” James shouted before he could stop himself, turning on his heels to leave, “Fuck, I don’t even know what this crew is anymore! I don’t need a lecture like this from _you_ , of all people! You can’t keep someone in this goddamn crew to save your life, you wouldn’t know what loyalty looked like if it bit you in the ass!”

“James -” Jordan started to say, but James was storming out before he could finish. He slammed the door of his office, blew past Dan when he poked his head out of the kitchen, and left the office building without a backwards look.

Aleks was at his place when he got home. He didn’t want to admit that it was nice to come home to an actual person again; Ein and Mishka fucking around in the living room and Aleks setting up a shit game he found at some sort of thrift store he’d run into that day.

He didn’t bring it up right away. Instead, he waited until Aleks was mostly asleep in his sheets; his weakest moment. His heart was still hammering, but he was working double-time to get those repressed memories that Jordan had tried to drag up back in their box and Aleks always helped him get himself in order. He wanted to see Aleks smile.

“Hey,” he said quietly, not letting himself think about the warmth in his belly at the view of Aleks curled into his pillows.

Aleks hummed in response, his basic _I’m sleeping fucker, shut up_ answer.

“You still wanna ditch?”

-

“This is different,” Geoff sighed, looking the note over, “Kid, you gotta understand. It’s one thing to break into someone else’s records. This...dying or not, the Hub is still our people. I’m sorry, man, I can’t help you break into their files.”

“I didn’t think you would.” James said, his head in his hands and elbows on the kitchen’s island.

The newest clue, wrinkled and nearly ripped in some places, lay in the middle of the island, where the whole crew could look at it. He didn’t bother. He’d already read it once, that was more than enough.

_Your previous crew - the Hub - has an extensive file on the Gennistora, a highly-organized crime ring out of Russia. Send file to uf1ira3o1ka2.secure.server.net.ru._

“But,” The Beard broke in, “We _can_ get you to Colorado.”

“They would shoot me before they talked to me,” James didn’t look up, “We...didn’t part on the best of terms.”

“I remember,” Geoff sighed, “But my point stands. The Hub is part of my family, same as you, and I won’t betray my family.”

“I get it,” James nodded into his hands, “I don’t blame you. It was too much to ask. You’ve already done a lot for me, Geoff, I won’t ask for more.”

“Luckily for you,” the Beard gripped his shoulder, warm and comforting and painful after his ordeal, “You don’t have to ask family for help. No one will shoot anyone if we’re with you. The Lads are pretty invested in this, Gavin’s already offered to fly out with you. We can’t force the Hub to open up their databanks to you, James, but we can at least get you into a proper conversation. Hasn’t this feud gone on long enough?”

James...didn’t know how to answer that. “That’s...my only option here, I guess.”

“It is.” Geoff said firmly, but he smiled when James finally looked up at him. James tried to smile back, even while his insides squirmed. He hadn’t slept yet, was the problem. He hadn’t even gone for proper medical attention yet; he’d needed to talk to Geoff about this clue, first. Now that it was settled, everything was catching up to him.

“You’re a mess,” The Beard finally helped him stand up, getting James’ arm around his shoulders so James didn’t have to rest all of his weight on his shaky legs, “You should have gone to Caleb directly.”

“The note -” James started, but Geoff was already handing it over. It was stained bloody from James’ fingers.

“Go get fixed up. _Rest_. You can leave tomorrow.”

“But-”  
“No,” Geoff cut him off, “Tomorrow. You aren’t in any state to talk with anyone right now. I’ll send Caleb in in a minute.”

James gave in, because there was nothing else he could do. Even if he left right now, he wouldn’t get even close to the Hub’s new headquarters before getting shot down without the Lads. And he wouldn’t have them until tomorrow, when Geoff let them leave.

He limped to the room Jeremy had given him the night before, pushed the door open and gingerly set on the bed. He must have lost track of time, staring at his feet and taking his mind off the pain by thinking about what Aleks must be going through only to try to take his mind off of what Aleks might be going through by thinking about the pain, because he finally blinked and - when his eyes reopened - there was a man standing in front of him with a medical bag.

“James?” The man smiled, “I’m Caleb, the Fakes’ doctor. I heard you had a run in with...a lot.”

“I guess.” James shrugged, offering his arms to show him. Now that James was actually looking, the two sleeves were more red than white at this point. He was kind of worried about his tattoos, actually. Looking down at his pants, his knees were ruined and rivers of red had slipped down his legs to stain his pants legs and the white of his socks. Maybe white hadn’t been the best choice of colors for this mission.

“Jesus, you fucked yourself up good, huh?” Caleb set his bag down on the bed, “Okay, man, go ahead and let me pull these clothes off. It’s gonna be a long night for us.”

Removing the glass was a long and painful promise. It involved needles, tweezers, and a lot of disinfectant that burned bad enough to make James bite his lip. He had to soak his burned hand in a basin of water while Caleb picked glass out of his arms and legs, but he was more worried about the first burn he’d got - the first one on his leg. It didn’t hurt, and he knew it was there and that it _should_ have hurt, like his hand and the other burns on his legs did.

“It’s a third-degree,” Caleb explained when he finally mentioned it, “It’s not big - a line, maybe two centimeters long. What I’d _like_ to do is get you into a hospital _but_ ,” he continued before James could give him a curt _fuck off_ , “I know you won’t go. Your left hand is blistering; it needs to be wrapped and treated with _care_ , James. You could lose it, if you aren’t careful.”

Swallowed, grim-faced, James nodded.

“And your leg...you’ve got second-degrees on that, too, though not as severe as your hand. Your ankles are both not in the best shape, either, not to mention all the glass and bruises. You _have_ to be more careful, or you aren’t going to finish whatever this mission is.”

“Yeah,” James agreed, “I will be.”

He’d done this all before, except usually it was Anna or Asher kneeling in front of him and carefully wrapping his legs up with bandages after covering it in antiseptic.

“Change these every day and, when you get the chance, _please_ get that leg burn looked at. It heals slow and painful and it scars if you don’t get it treated properly.”

“I will, thanks,” James forced a small, quick smile, and Caleb sighed but gave in. He wrapped James’ arms, and then continued down his left arm to his hand, which he loosely wrapped in a thinner bandage. He wrapped each finger individually so that his motion wasn’t reduced to the point of uselessness but his left hand was fucked. It felt...wrong, but at least he could still make a fist - if he was careful and slow.

There wasn’t much he could do about his leg - the cherry-sized line that Caleb had talked about was on his calf, a numb spot that he didn’t even want to look at, and the other burns were finally beginning to tingle and stop stinging now that they’d been treated with some pain relief.

“Here, lay down,” Caleb helped him lay down, vulnerable on his stomach with nothing but his boxers on. He was too tired to care. “I’m going to put some warm compresses on your shoulders to loosen the muscles. Sleep. You’re gonna be in a lot of pain when you wake up, but I’ll leave some pills on your table to take, and it’ll do you a favor in the long run. Also,”

James was out before he heard anything else.

-

James had another nightmare. This one, when he woke up, didn’t stay with him like the night before’s had, but he still remembered Brett’s voice; “ _I thought we were gonna try to be different._ ”

He remembered, for just a moment, the image of his crew walking away from him - Aleks with them. Even Joe, his oldest friend and the person he trusted more than anyone else, turned his back on him. To be fair, James had to reason with himself, he’d walked away first. Run away, more like.

He didn’t wake with a start. His body wouldn’t have let him, even if he had. Instead, he was sleeping one second and awake the next, staring at the wall opposite the window and taking in the seam of bright light breaking the shadows apart in a neat, thin line of sunshine.

He moved to sit up, only to realize that his arms were like literal jelly. His hand, which had been at a nearly unnoticeable level of pain the night before, burned like _fire_ , as did the marks on his legs. His shoulders, when he tried to sit up again, protested loudly enough that he collapsed back onto the bed.

He inhaled sharply, clenching his eyes shut to gather himself. He was alone; he didn’t have his crew to call to or any people he was close to around to help him. Just himself. Himself was plenty, as far as he was concerned.

He looked at the bedside table, where the clock was blinking ‘7:23’, through the two and three were distorted by the glass of water he was viewing them through. In front of said glass of water were three small gel pills. He didn’t hesitate to grab them and swallow them dry and then he tilted himself over enough to down the water in two big pulls.

His body demanded more so, with herculean effort, he forced himself to sit up and then, slowly but surely, stand on his own two feet. He stood at the edge of the bed for a long time, silently forcing his body to support itself, and then carefully took one step toward the connected bathroom, and then another.

It was this way, one step and then another and then one step and then another, that he was able to make it to the sink with the glass and refill it. He drank three glasses before he felt like he could continue on, and he filled the glass a fourth time and nursed it as he stumbled around looking for his clothes.

He found a modified version of the clothes he’d flown in with sitting in a clean, folded pile on the dresser and he finished off half the glass before setting it aside to pull them clothes on. His pants - sweatpants, loose - were difficult, but he supported himself on the dresser and, inch by inch, pulled them up. He was just grateful he didn’t have to button and zip up with one hand. He had to forgo the tee he’d been wearing, but someone had set the short-sleeve flannel he’d had on top to the side, along with both of his phones, and he managed to get one arm, and then the other, through and button it up until it was covering enough to be decent.

When he felt like he’d done enough to show himself he was capable of movement, he finished off the glass and grabbed his phone.

There were three missed calls - one from Joe, one from Jakob, and one from Brett. Only Joe had left a voicemail and James didn’t listen to it. The iPhone had a new text, too, but it was only a text format of the message from inside the lizard - the name of the information that the old bitch wanted and the email he was supposed to send it to.

He put both phones, and their chargers, into the deep pockets of his jeans and then grabbed the suitcase with the tools he’d brought from the office that had turned out to be absolutely useless with his good hand and shoved his feet into his shoes without bothering to pull the backs out. He wouldn’t be coming back to the room, as far as he was concerned. If the Lads wouldn’t come with him now, then he’d go alone and figure it out when he got there. He’d sooner cut his own throat with a spoon then call in a favor with Jordan, but he wasn’t above blackmailing Dan. Jordan had shit on him, but Dan didn’t have anything bad enough to counter what James had on him; a perk of being the ear Jordan went to when he was pissed, even if it hadn’t shown itself until over a year after he and Dan had cut contact.

And, if that didn’t work, he wasn’t above going after Spencer for a ransom. He’d prefer not to put himself at the opposite end of Geoff’s gun for going after the Hub, but he would if he absolutely had to.

It was later in the morning than the last time he’d left the room, and the penthouse was a bustling hub of activity; the Lads were in the living room, loudly yelling as they played four-player Mario Kart, but he could see the Gents all in the kitchen with a tall, blond man and a dark-haired woman with a manic smile on her face. The table in the dining area was covered in at least seven monitors and a mess of wires and computers, eight - or possibly nine - people crowded around and working in complete silence.

It was...weird, but comfortable. Like this was normal.

James shoved whatever was trying to bubble up in his stomach back down, and limped into the living room.

Brownman saw him first and did a double-take.

“Shit man,” He said, “I thought all the blood just made it look bad last night but nah, you’re fucked up.”

“Thanks.” James would have shrugged, but he was pretty sure his shoulders were going to fall off if he moved them, “Nice to hear. I’m leaving.”

“Leaving?” The Beard popped out of the kitchen, “Nova, you look ready to collapse.”

“I’ve slept long enough,” James turned to him, forcing a smile, “I don’t have any more time to waste. Aleks has been gone for close to forty-eight hours and I don’t want it to be much longer.”

“Do you even know how many of these missions you’re going to be sent on?” Brownman asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No.” James swallowed, “So I need to do them fast. Faster than last night.”

“Maybe just rest a few more hours,” the Beard said, sounding worried, and James tightened his hand around his suitcase handles.

“I’m going. Geoff said you wanted to come with me,” He turned to glance at the Lads, “But, if you don’t, I’ll go on my own. This doesn’t have to be a nice conversation.”

“Jack,” Gavin broke in, standing up smoothly and coming to stand at James’ side with a smile, “Can’t you see his point? If we don’t leave soon, he’s going to start a gang war in our own gang, and that just won’t do. Will it, Geoffrey?”

“No.” Geoff crossed his arms, looking pained, “It won’t. You boys ready?”

“Yep,” Jeremy leapt off the couch, “We’ve been ready for hours!”

“No, we haven’t.” Michael groaned, “We’ve been ready for half an hour, because Ray just woke up.”

“Things got too exciting last night, I was up with the shits,”

“Ray, you were up because you slept through the whole car ride; you missed the scary hooded figure that did business with Nova,”

“Let polygons be polygons,”

“It’s bygones, Ray,” Jeremy corrected, smiling big and wide when Brownman just sighed at him.

“Regardless of whether or not anyone was up with the shits,” Geoff said loudly, “You’re ready to go, and so is the jet. Ry’s gonna drive you; _please_ behave while you’re in Colorado.”

“But of course, Geoffrey,” Gavin spoke for them, putting a hand to his heart and giving Geoff an innocent expression, “What else would we be but the most respectable gentleman the Hub has ever seen?”

“I hate you.” Geoff shook his head, “So much.”

Gavin laughed, touching James’ shoulder lightly, “Go find something to eat, love, we just need to get our shoes.”

James nodded and, still holding the suitcase so hard that he wasn’t even sure he _could_ let it go, he walked into the kitchen.

The Beard gave him another worried glance but smiled with welcome, “You missed breakfast, but I saved you a plate in the mic.”

“Uh,” James shifted on his feet, “Thanks.”

“Don’t mind Jack,” the woman, who James was pretty sure was Ruby Rose: Notorious Scythe Killer, gave him a thumbs up, “He’s a mother to us all.”

“Please don’t compare Jack to my mother.” Geoff rubbed his face and James cracked another smile and accepted the plate of food and the chair Jack offered him. It was...awkward, feeling fawned over, but he put up with it and ate the cold pancake and biscuit as fast as he could. His stomach was heavy, rejecting the food, but he kept it down and drank the mug of coffee Jack set in front of him in one pull.

“You remember when you could wolf shit down without getting heartburn?” Jack sighed, looking at the Vagabond, and the Vagabond - sans mask, hair down, makeup gone, shrugged.

“He’s already covered in burns, Jack, what’s one more.”

“That...was terrible, Ryan,” the blond man shook his head sadly, “Horrible. Zero out of ten.”

The Vagabond just shrugged again, an uninterested look on his face as he went back to looking over the map on the table. They must have been in the middle of planning something.

“Thanks,” James finally nodded at the Beard, “It was good.”

“Ryan made it,” The Beard smiled back, whisking his dishes away before James could even get up.

James didn’t have any time to contemplate the fact that he’d just eaten a pancake made by a serial murderer, because the Lads swept into the kitchen moments after the Beard had taken his dishes. Things in this penthouse were fast, confusing, and loud. James was used to all of those things; but he hurt, he wasn’t firing on all cylinders, and he was pretty sure his hand was going to fall off if he didn’t do something about it. He glanced at it, opened his palm to see that the bandages had stained a gross yellow at some point. Closed it, so no one would notice and make him stop to change the bandages out.

“And we’re ready to be off, boys,” Gavin said loudly, dressed in a fitted button up and some nice slacks. He didn’t look like he was wearing makeup, but his skin was still perfect and his eyes were just a little too bright for him to not be using some sort of enhancement. Michael caught him in a headlock, scrubbing at his hair and totally ignoring Gavin squawking like a fucking bird as he struggled to get out of it.  
“Road trip,” Brownman deadpanned, pushing past them both with a duffle bag on his shoulder, “Well. Jet trip. You ready, babe?”

“Don’t call me that,” The Vagabond stood up, his stool scraping against the floor hard enough to make everyone in the room wince.

“Sure thing, babe,” Brownman checked his phone, “Is that a yes?”

“Yes,” the Vagabond said, defeated.

James thought he saw the Beard and Michael leaning in to kiss, but he wasn’t going to stick around to watch any private goodbyes. He knew where the door was.

Or, at least, the elevator.

He made a mental note to, when Aleks was back, try to get an invite back to this place. Aleks would get a kick out of the decadence.

The Lads and the Vagabond joined him a few minutes later, and he was swept up in them. He didn’t need to talk; he just kept his suitcase close and the palm of his hand hidden, nodded or responded in monosyllables when asked questions and shepherded into a different SUV then the one he’d been taken to the penthouse in. The ride was anything but calm; there was plenty of swerving in and out of lanes, yelling between all five of the Fakes, movie quotes and classic literature quotes that went right over James’ head, odd noises from Gavin and this weird... _haap haap_ sound from Jeremy occasionally, but James was able to just put his head down and ignore it all. He was sitting between Brownman and the door, so the most he dealt with physically was Brownman’s shifting arms as he played a game on his phone.

They made it to the airport without dying, somehow, and James was the first one out of the car. He had barely got his feet under him before Michael was on one side and Jeremy was on the other and he was being herded back toward the golden jet.

He collapsed into one of the chairs, his body protesting against all the movement, his bandaged hand still curled in to hide the stains.

“Who’s flying?” He heard Michael ask.

“Me!” Jeremy and Gavin responded at the same time, and then things devolved into an argument that James was...honestly, too tired to care about. They would figure it out. The Fakes were exhausting, in a way that he thought he would usually be able to handle if things had been different.

Finally, Jeremy made some sort of victory noise and disappeared into the cockpit. James watched Michael and Brownman fall into the seats across the aisle from him, leaving Gavin to either go farther in or - yes, or sit in the seat across the table from James.

“Buckle up, fuckers,” Michael sighed, pulling his seatbelt on. James followed suit, holding his bad hand close to his chest to avoid bumping it as he struggled to get his belt snapped into place.

“Oh,” Gavin started to stand up, “I’ll help you,”

“No, it’s fine,” James shook his head and finally snapped the buckle in place, “I got it.”

Gavin slowly set back down, humming a confirmation, but James didn’t look up at him. He was annoyed at himself, that he couldn’t do something so simple as _buckling a seatbelt._

He uncurled his hand - slowly, because he was a pussy and it _hurt_ to move it - and stared down at the palm accusingly. If he hadn’t been such a fuckup, he would still have his hand.

“Do you need to change the bandage?” Brownman asked without looking up from his phone, “I got a nasty burn like that once. One of us could help wrap it if you can’t.”

“They’re fine,” James leaned back in the chair, breathing out slow and steady, “I’ll change them later. But thanks.”

“No problemo,” Brownman shot him a quick thumbs up and James thought he saw his eyes flick up for not even a second.

The jet shuddered into movement all at once and the intercom came to life, Jeremy voice blasting over them.

“The Midas Fly’dis is taking off; please fasten all seatbelts at this time. And hold on.”

“Oh god,” Gavin gripped the arms of his chair, “Brace yourself, lads,”

James didn’t question it, pressing himself against his chair and pulling his belt tight. Not even a few seconds later, the jet started to pick up speed. This was no smooth take off like the last time he flew with it. It was fast, bumpy, Jeremy’s laughter echoing over the intercom like a demented soundtrack. Michael yelled something as the jet finally tilted upward, but James couldn’t make it out over the feeling of his stomach lifting into his throat and choking him out.

He tried to curl in on himself, but couldn’t manage it - he was plastered to his seat even while Gavin was gripping onto his chair for dear life.

James was suddenly sure that this was how he was going to die. Aleks locked away with some bounty hunters, no crew to his name, surrounded by insane adrenaline junkies, going on a treasure hunt for some bitch in hospice.

And then the jet evened out, and Jeremy said, “This is your pilot speaking and we’re up in the air ladies and gentleman. We’ll be arriving in Denver in three hours. Alcohol is on the house, please watch the informational videos on what to do in case of a crash.”

“I’m...going to go sit with him.” Brownman stood up, “I don’t want to die in a plane crash.”

“There are videos?” Michael said in response, and Brownman disappeared without answering him.

“Well. It was smoother than last time,” Gavin cleared his throat, “I should have had a go.”

“You would have killed us immediately,” Michael cut him off, standing up to head for the back cabin, “Don’t even start. I’m going to go take a nap in the back, three hours in this tin can with you and the burn victim is going to drive me insane.”

“I’m not a burn victim,” James almost argued but bit his tongue before it came out. He also just wanted to sleep. As much as he wished it would, Colorado was far away and he couldn’t make the jet go any faster than these crazy assholes could.

“Well, it’s just you and me, Nova,” Gavin clapped and then pulled a deck of cards out of his pocket as if he’d just been waiting for the opportunity to.

Well, he wouldn’t be sleeping then.

“You play cards?”

“Yeah,” James nodded, “What game?”

“Hm, let’s start with some good, old-fashioned Bullshit.”

-

Gavin whipped his ass at Bullshit, but James got him back during Blackjack.

They didn’t talk much, outside of calls or the occasional curse. James was down a hand, but he could at least pick up card and put it on the table if he was careful not to move his fingers too much.

It wasn’t until they were close to the end of the trip, and they’d switched to Texas Hold ’em, that Gavin started any sort of conversation.

Neither of them were particularly shining at this game. James had won the first hand, but Gavin had made up for it with the last two.

“So, where’s your crew?” Gavin asked, fanning his five cards out so that each had one long finger supporting the back, his thumb keeping the fifth in place and turned just a little toward him.

“Back in LA,” James said instead of “I don’t have one anymore.”

“Bit mingy, ‘ask me,” Gavin rearranged some cards, cut his eyes up to look at James, “They didn’t wanna join you up?”

“They did,” James dropped his eyes to his cards, moved his seven so it was between his two of clubs and his nine of hearts, “I didn’t.”

Gavin raised an eyebrow, “Hm. Why’s that?”

James shrugged, not taking his eyes off his cards, “Personal.”

Gavin hummed again, “You lot are new, right? Seems a shame to fall apart so soon.”

“We aren’t.” James lied.

Gavin smiled, fleeting, and didn't look up from his hand.  
"It's odd," he said, and James didn't want to look but felt like Gavin's voice was taunting him until he did, "Geoff said something to me once, when I was a lad on the streets of Austin. You know what it was?"  
"What?" James asked against his will, rearranging his cards again. He had a shit hand.  
"There's nothing worse than a coward," Gavin sighed, laid his hand on the table, "That's tricked brave men into loyalty. Didn’t get it, much, ‘til I watched this cute little crew collapse from the inside out. So sad."  
James stared at his hand, throat tight.  
"I fold," Gavin stood up, "Bad hand. I'd better go check on the pilot. Ray's got a habit of falling asleep at the wheel and Lil J will crash us if he gets bored. See you in a bit, love," He smiled again, razor sharp, and disappeared into the cockpit.  
James checked his folded cards, once he was sure Gavin was gone.  
A royal flush.

James didn’t feel like a winner.

-

The landing was a lot smoother than the take off, but James felt sick regardless. He’d set the cards aside, but they’d fallen to the ground during descent and slid under the table. Gavin had taken the seat across from Brownman and Michael was sitting in his old seat, too sleepy to try to start any conversations with James.

His hand hadn’t stopped hurting at all, but he’d begun to tolerate it more. By the time Jeremy announced that it was safe to disembark and the door had been released, it was a throbbing ache that felt less like fire and more like a bad sunburn. He wanted to soak it in some ice water, but didn’t have time for that and...something in him was whispering that he deserved it. That the pain was a reminder of how he’d been failing from the moment Aleks had called him. Failed Aleks, failed his crew for the second time around, failed himself, failed Geoff. He’d take care of the hand when he stopped _failing_.

He left the jet last, squinting at the cloudy brightness of the day. He hadn’t missed Colorado’s weather, that was for sure.

There was a car waiting for them, not as nice as the SUV they’d left the penthouse in. After a second, James recognized it as the van that the Hub had used to drive to Achievement City for the annual meeting Geoff had invited them to before they’d ever joined his family.

“Sick, a normal car,” Brownman finally put his phone in his pocket and, duffle in hand, went forward without hesitation.

Dan was standing at the van, smiling in greeting.

It stuttered when he saw James, but it wouldn’t be Dan if he hadn’t been able to keep up the farce.

“Hey, guys! This was an unexpected visit.”

“Something’s come up,” Gavin reached out and took Dan’s hand, shaking it a few times while his Lads piled into the van. James didn’t, standing next to Gavin and waiting his turn. He’d have to get this over with at some point.

“But let’s talk when we’re back in your office,” Gavin looked around, “Hardly the place for a chat, innit?”

“Yeah, of course!” Dan motioned to the van, “We would have had a better car but, short notice.”

“No problem,” Gavin finally dropped his hand and, after a small hesitation, climbed into the van and slid the door shut.

“James,” Dan finally dropped the smile, turning away from the van so the Lads couldn’t see his expression, “They didn’t tell us you’d be here.”

“It’s a long story.” James said stiffly.

“You look like shit.”

“You’re looking better,” He forced a smile, “Hitting the gym?”

“Yes,” Dan cleared his throat, clearly thrown off, “What’s going on, James?”

“At the office.” James repeated what Gavin said, “It’s...a long story.”

“Fine,” Dan gave in, reaching over to pull the passenger side door open for him, “Koots is gonna blow a gasket.”

“When doesn’t he,” James rolled his eyes, but got in and didn’t bother with struggling with the seatbelt. If this pile of shit and duct tape wrecked, there was nothing a strip of fabric was gonna do to protect him.

“We’re not far,” Dan said, once he’d shut the driver’s door and started the engine, “Maybe half an hour. The place is kinda small, we’ve downgraded since there’s only a few of us.”

James, who remembered exactly how many there were at one point, rested his chin on his hand and looked out of the window.

Dan made polite chatter, mostly with Jeremy or Michael, but James could feel Gavin’s creeping stare on him the entire ride.

The airstrip they’d landed on was outside Denver, closer to where Fake Chop had been than where he last remembered the Hub being, and his eyes followed familiar roads. He hadn’t realized how well he’d known the city until now, tracing his eyes over sidewalks and alleys and buildings he had vague memories of passing here and there.

The new office wasn’t exactly a sty when they pulled into it, Dan parking the van on the street in front of it, but it was nowhere near the glory of their first few offices or of the last one James remembered being in. It was moderate, though. Something in James panged, a bittersweet feeling that he ignored.

Instead, he popped the door open and stepped out. He didn’t go to the front, though. He’d follow behind, at least get inside before Jordan exploded. God forbid he see Spencer before he actually got into the place.

“Nice place,” Jeremy said, “Reminds me of the good old days.”

“Lil J, we were already in the penthouse when you showed up,”

“Yeah, I was talking about your good old days. Before Geoff spoiled you all rotten.”

“Rekt,” Brownman cut in on Gavin’s annoyed noise, and James shook his head. This neighborhood seemed too tired for the Lads’ level of excitement. It fit the city well, but not this suburb of tiny houses.

Dan laughed, though, and pulled his keys out.

“I’ll take you inside. Jordan would have come but the van was cramp as it was.”

“No bother,” Gavin waved him away, cutting another look at James seemingly to make sure he was still following, “I think we need to talk to both of you so, long as he’s here, we don’t need a welcome wagon.”

Dan unlocked the door and pushed it open to let them in first. James hesitated before he entered. It felt...wrong. He’d thought he’d be...angry, maybe. Still pissed off, maybe smug that Fake Chop was - or had been - doing so much better. Instead, he just felt...sad.

“Look,” Dan cleared his throat, “I know whatever this is is...important. You wouldn’t have called the Fakes in as bodyguards if it wasn’t. I’ll do my best, but Jordan is...it’s still fresh, for him.”

“Me, too.” James said simply and walked inside.

Dan followed him, closing the door, and James paused so he could listen and try to find where the Lads had disappeared to. He didn’t have any weapons on him, not even a knife, and he didn’t feel safe walking around on his own.

He could hear talking coming from a room over and, with a glance at Dan’s worried expression, he carefully started for it.

He paused in the doorway again so he could take in the scene and prepare himself.

Jordan was there; shaking hands with Jeremy and exchanging greetings. He was still wearing his red hat, though his eyes looked darker and he seemed...more tired, maybe. His back was mostly to James, the only reason he hadn’t seen him yet, and James met Gavin’s eyes before he took a steadying breath and stepped into the room. Dan followed, hands in his pockets as he passed James to stand a little in front of him.

“Ah, I was beginning to think you’d got lost, love!” Gavin called to James, catching Jordan’s attention.

Between one moment and the next, he and James were making eye contact and - for a brief eternity - the world was silent.

“What,” Jordan broke the silence, “are you doin’ here, bud?”

His voice was friendly enough, barely any bite to it at all, but James had known Jordan for nearly a decade. He could feel the poison nearly dripping from the words.

“Long story.” James said shortly, unable to keep the hostility out of his voice.

“Now, now,” Gavin broke in, “That’s no way to treat guests, is it?”

And his words contained enough of the edge that Jordan’s lacked to rein them both in.

“Table,” Michael turned to Dan, “You got one?”

“Uh, yeah,” Dan pointed to the left, “In the next room.”

“Perfect. Let’s all have a sit down.”

“Sure,” Jordan said, still smiling, but the tightness of his eyes gave him away to James. And James was sure he wasn’t exactly hiding his own distaste, either.

Still, the seven of them all filed into the room next door; a bigger area with a table for meetings. As James passed through, he couldn’t help but glance around for where the Hub kept their computers. The previous room had been a common area, but this room had three monitors in the corner. If he had to, he could sneak back in later and break into them. If they weren’t there, then they were somewhere else in this house and he would find them.

James set in the chair closest to the door and Jordan set across from him. Dan set next to Jordan, but only Gavin joined at James’ side. Jeremy, Michael, and Brownman all milled around for a few seconds before Michael broke in.

“We’re gonna explore a little, if that’s cool. Gavvers speaks for us.”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Dan pointed back toward the front door, “Stef is around here, if you want to find her. She can show you around. She knows enough to answer any business questions you’ve got.”

“Cool,” Jeremy tipped his hat, “We’ll go do that.”

They all left the room as if a singular wave. It felt emptier without them, and then he glanced at Gavin and could practically see the way he swelled to fill the room again. As if his bracers had been undone, Midas was released. When he smiled, it was charming and kind. It sent a shiver up James’ spin.

“Now, down to business. James, please,” he motioned and James dug the paper out of his pocket and, with some hesitation, set it on the table.

“I need this file.”

“Why?” Jordan asked, not even reaching for it even as his eyes flicked down to read it, “You don’t get access to our files. And, sorry, neither do…” Jordan turned to Gavin, “The Fakes, without asking. What’s going on here?”

“I’ll pay you,” James said before he could stop himself, feeling his chest constrict. Jordan obviously wasn’t in a giving mood today, “How much do you want for it?”

“Your money isn’t good here.” Jordan finally broke the smile, narrowing his eyes, “ _You_ aren’t good here, actually. Last time I saw you, you told me that you were going to enjoy watching us bleed out in your dust.”

“Burn your bridges often, do you?” Gavin raised an eyebrow at him and James bit back a sneer.

“You don’t want money?” James looked around, “Fine. Clients. I’ve got new lines I’m opening up right now. They’re going to bring in thousands, if not millions. Both of them are yours, for this.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dan leaned back in his chair.

“No, thanks.” Jordan smiled again, “We don’t need it.”  
“Jordan!” Dan hissed, but Jordan didn’t even look at him. He and James didn’t break eye contact.

“Don’t make me play dirty, Jordan,” James lowered his voice, “I’m trying to be fair here.”

“Fair?” Jordan finally sneered at him, “Fuck you, James. You’re desperate for this - enough that you called in the Fakes to protect you. Where’s your precious new crew, Nova?”

“If you don’t sell the files to me,” James set back in his chair, “I’m going to burn you to the ground, Kootra.”

“You wouldn’t,” Jordan stared back, “We worked hard for _this_ file. Steph almost died, hundreds of hours of compiling it. I’d delete it all before giving it to you.”

“You think I wouldn’t?” James laughed, “I would do that and much more, motherfucker. I’ll burn this whole goddamn city to the ground, look me in the _fucking_ eye and tell me I wouldn’t.”

Jordan called him, leaned forward and stared hard into his eyes.

“You would, huh?” Jordan glanced around, comprehension dawning, “Hey, Nova. Where’s Immortal? Or, uh, was he not so immortal after all?”

James slammed his fist on the table hard enough to make everyone in the room jump. Fire raced up his arm; he’d used his fucked hand, and the pain was so bad that he bit back a scream.

When he could see straight again, chest heaving, Jordan and Dan were both staring at him and Gavin was still smiling at him.

“You should change your bandages, James.” Gavin mentioned and, when James looked at his hand, he saw that his hand’s bandages and a number of spots along his arm had soaked a pale red. It _hurt_ , but like it was far away.

“Sell me the file.” James slowly unclenched his hurt hand, closing his eyes against the pain and taking a moment to breathe out.

“I’ll tell you what,” Jordan leaned forward so his arms were on the table. “Tell me what’s got the unflappable Nova so fucked up, and I’ll _think_ about selling that info. And what are you here for, Midas?”

“I’m here to facilitate,” Gavin put his hands up, “We don’t want anything to get _too_ violent, here. And, of course, if this file has anything that we can’t have getting out…”

“Of course,” Jordan, catching James’ eyes again, raised an eyebrow, “Deal, Nova?”

“You’ll sell it to me if I tell you?”

“That’s not what I -”

“Yes,” Dan said loudly, over Jordan, “We’ll sell it to you.”

Jordan shot him a dirty look, but didn’t argue.

“Aleks was kidnapped. Now, tell me your price.”

“Elaborate,” Jordan set back as if shocked, like James’ words had been electrified, “How’d someone get him away from _you_?”

“I was looking at warehouses with Joe,” James sucked in a breath, “They took him after he left the office. They were good. Didn’t leave any traces - cameras or people.”

“Did they ransom him?”

“No,” James carefully pulled the crumpled paper back, “He called me. He...I _swore_ I would get him back. A woman contacted me a few hours after he went missing. She said she had information. That if I did some tasks, she’d lead me to him.”  
“And your crew?” Jordan sneered, “What, are they doing other tasks? Did they send you to us because they thought we’d be sympathetic?”

“No,” James closed his eyes, “I took off with the second clue, to the Fakes. I needed help on the first task. They stuck around to help me get here, but I’m working alone.”

“Oh.” Jordan said, like James had shocked him again. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” James folded the paper slowly, “Once bitten, twice shy, I guess. I couldn’t trust my crew. You guys tried to make me give him up, once; what could I expect from a crew barely a year old?”

No one said anything for a long moment.

“Have you dug deep enough yet?” James finally snapped, “What, do you want me to beg? Name your goddamn price, I don’t have time to waste.”

“Who took him?” Dan asked instead of answering, “Ideas?”

“Fuckin’ - bounty hunters, okay? Russian, they’re taking him back to Russia.”

“Holy shit,” Jordan’s eyes widened, “But he -”

“You don’t have to fucking tell me,” James swallowed, “I _know_ , Jordan. So, what do you _want_? I’ll get on my goddamn knees, if that’s what you’re looking for here. Money?  Clients? Shit, I’ll do you a favor. You always wanted Felix’s number, I’ve got it right fucking here -”

“ _Stop_ ,” Jordan snapped, “ _Stop_ , James, for fuck’s sake,”

“Midas,” Dan said quietly, “Can you give us a minute? I know the file, it’s not got anything on Cockbite.”

“Boy, can I!” Gavin patted James’ shoulder, standing up, “I’ll go hunt down some bandages. Caleb would kill me if I left you bleeding like that!”

“Thanks,” James held his hand closer to his chest.

Gavin shut the door behind him, locking the three of them in quiet.

“You’ve never begged a day in your life,” Jordan stood up, “I _told_ you this would happen. He was going to _destroy each other_ and here you fucking are, crawling back to us like a dog and _begging us_ for _this_ , this _worthless file_ on some no name Russian gang!”

“I don’t need a lecture, Jordan!” James yelled, “I’m here to make a business transaction, _you’re_ the one who demanded that I tell you why!”

“Because I _knew_ it was going to be something like _this_ ,” Jordan stood up, “The only person that ever put that look in your eyes was him.”

“ _Is_ him,” James said viciously, standing up to, “He isn’t gone, Jordan. Dan!” He turned to look at him.

Dan, wide-eyed, looked at him.

“How much for the folder?”

“You...figure that out with Jordan. I’ll go get it. Gennistora, right?” He didn’t wait for a confirmation, just stood up and went over to the monitors.

Knowing that the file, at least, would soon be in his hands, James was content to sit back down and ignore Jordan.

“James!” Jordan started, but James cut him off.

“Unless the next word out of your mouth is a price, I don’t want to hear it,”

Jordan glared, closed his mouth.

The room stayed silent while Dan brought up the file and transferred it.

“It’s ready,” He said nearly fifteen minutes later.

“You still haven’t given me a price.” James said, finally looking from the wall back to Jordan.

“We would have helped you, if you’d been with us,” Jordan responded, “I never told you to choose.”

“You didn’t have to _say_ it, Jordan.” James crossed his arms, “I know what you wanted. It was always going to be him. It’s always going to be him.”

“I know.” Jordan finally slumped, shaking his head, “You’re stubborn and blind, James.”

“Like you can talk.” James rolled his eyes, “For the last time, _give me a price_ or I’ll just _take it_.”

Jordan glared at him but held his hand out and, hesitantly, Dan handed the drive over.

He tossed it to James so fast that James caught it with his bad hand on instinct and barely stopped himself from yelling in pain again.

“Take it.”

“...You’re serious?”

“We don’t need your clients,” Jordan exchanged a look with Dan, “We’re shutting our doors. And, like I said. Your money isn’t welcome here. And neither are you.”

“Yeah, well,” James stood up and put the drive in his pocket, “I didn’t want to come, but a crazy old Russian bitch forced my hand.”

“I don’t take back what I said,” Jordan looked him over, then shook his head. “You know...You were supposed to be the best of us. We all knew it, but you throw it away for him. Every goddamn time.”

“I don’t take back what I said, either,” James pulled his phone out and plugged the drive into the charging port, “Fuck you, Jordan.”

Jordan sneered, shaking his head - but he looked sad.

James wouldn’t admit it, but he was sad, too. For all that happened, Jordan and Dan both were some of his oldest friends. Well, ex-friends. But they’d been family, once.

Standing across the table, waiting for the drive to download onto his phone, it felt like this visit hadn’t closed the chasm between them even a centimeter.

He watched the progress bar, waited impatiently for it to reach one hundred and hesitated just long enough to make _sure_ that it had downloaded completely before he opened a draft email. He’d memorized the email address, but he forwarded the text from the iPhone to his phone so he could copy-paste it into the address bar to avoid any accidents.

He attached the file, watched as it slowly loaded in. Twenty minutes after they’d been given the file, he hit send and watched the little image that told him it was sending.

Finally, he got the confirmation that it had sent.

His hands shaking, he pressed redial on the iPhone and pressed it to his ear.

Again, it almost rang through - only to be picked up only seconds before it was too late.

“You have sent email.”

“Yeah,” James swallowed, “Now what?”

“I have news,” She, for the first time, hesitated, “It is not necessary to finding him. If you complete next task within two days, you find him before he leaves country.”

“So, you know he hasn’t?”

“I have confirmation he is still in America.”

“Where?”

“That,” She sighed, “I do not know. Yet. Your next task will lead you whereabouts.”

“What’s this news, then?”

“It is information on kidnappers. The routes they took and plan to take to leave country. Interrogation videos.”

“ _What_?”

“You do not need watch.” She said, “It is not pertinent to search.”

“Send them to me.”

“They are not -”

“ _Send them,_ ” he grit his teeth, “To me.”

“... _Da_. They will be sent in response to email. Watch at own risk. Next task is outside Hub base, in front yard tree.”

She hung up and, moments later, he had received an email.

The first thing he did was start for the door.

“Thanks.” He called over his shoulder, “I need to go. Actually,”

He paused, some sort of manic energy making him pace back to the table, “A laptop. Do you have one I can use?”

“You’re pushing your luck here, Nova,” Jordan said tightly, but James barely heard him.

“Interrogation videos.” James responded, “She sent me videos.”

“...Yeah, I can dig one out for you,” Dan touched Jordan’s shoulder, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“I gotta...front yard,” James staggered out of the room, feeling numb, headed for the front door.

The Lads were gathered around in front of it, huddled in a circle and whispering amongst themselves.

The muttering stopped when Jeremy glanced up and spotted him.

“James, hey, uh,” He broke the circle, allowing James to see that they’d been leaning around a piece of folded paper, “Ray saw this when we were outside. We think it’s your next clue?”

It was a folded bear, similar in size to the butterfly and lizard, if a little bigger.

He reached for it and Ray dropped it into his palm.

He didn’t open it just yet.

“She sent me information. Videos.”

“Shit, man,” Michael frowned, “Are you...sure you want to watch those?”

“Yes.” James stared down at the bear in his hand, “Dan’s letting me borrow a laptop. It may take a while.”

“Take your time, love,” Gavin assured, “We’ve got our own business to attend to.”

James nodded and then took a deep breath to shore himself up. He left the Lads at the door and went back to the room where Dan and Jordan were still quietly talking to each other. A laptop had been placed on the table for him.

He set in front of it, putting the bear to the side for now, and opened the browser to get to his email.

He downloaded the folder he’d been sent but, watching the progress bar increase, he suddenly felt sick enough that he had to cover his eyes with one hand. His hair was still loose, he couldn’t put it up on his own and he wasn’t going to ask anyone else to do it, and it hung when he bowed his head, masking him from Jordan and Dan and the laptop until the ding of the completed download made him look up.

There were a lot of files - two videos, four pdfs, the rest images. He went through the images first; pictures, some maps. There was a map of the area around Aleks’ apartment, marked up where cameras were, a route in red with time stamps where the van would need to hide and wait it out. Another map of the beaches of LA, a slip showing a boat scheduled for two days from now, when the heat around all the waterlines had died down. Pictures of Aleks, of _James_ and Aleks, of just James. They’d been following him for weeks, learning their schedules, catching them in moments that were meant to be private. He paused on one of the last pictures; an image of he and Aleks against Aleks’ door. They weren’t kissing, but they were close. He still remembered that moment, the both of them drunk on whiskey after going to a bar with Brett, Aleks’ laughing in his ear. Aleks was smiling in the picture, his stupid eyes closed with how big his grin was, and James couldn’t look at his own face. Didn’t want to see whatever look the camera shutter had caught.

He moved on, but the rest were just street pictures marking where they would need to take our security.

He moved on to the pdfs next. The first was a profile of a man who called himself the Lurkster. There was a blurry picture, a wiry white guy with a hoodie on and deep bruises under his eyes. Underneath the picture was a list of aliases, the facts that whoever had compiled the profile knew, a list of crimes. He was a bounty hunter, though not a very big one. The second pdf contained another profile, this time of someone called the Clown. In the same layout as the Lurkster’s profile, it listed a few basic facts, though no aliases, and a list of crimes. He was the Lurkster’s partner, and had been for years. The next pdf was also a profile, though much more extensive. His name was Simon Wens.

He was the man who had ordered Aleks’ kidnapping. A child serial killer, and a mob boss, Wens’ file was...large. Documented crimes, known aliases, physical characteristics and an assortment of pictures - both of Wens and of his crimes. James didn’t know what Aleks had to do with a guy like this, but it obviously hadn’t been good if Wens was shelling out as much money as the profile reported he was.

The final pdf was a status report archive, emails sent back and forth between the bounty hunters and Wens. He skimmed it quickly, looking for any specific information. The first few were just updates on the surveillance, and the fifth from the bounty hunters - sent a little over two days ago - was confirming that Aleks had been taken. Wens’ next response detailed what, exactly, he wanted; certain information on who Aleks had been informing on and to who during his time in Russia, what the police knew, sensitive information about the Cockbite syndicate. But he didn’t want Aleks permanently harmed, and that sent a shot of relief so strong through James that he had to close his eyes again.

The next few emails weren’t anything important - talk of payment, of the escape plan, demands from Wens’ of an update video. The second to last had two attachments - the videos, and an apology that they hadn’t managed to get anything out of him yet. The last was a short email stating that Wens would only be paying the Lurkster. The Clown had been caught and taken into custody. It was sent that morning.

These files were...fresh, to say the least.

Finally, he clicked on the first video, titled the date of the day Aleks was first taken. He braced himself against his chair, his hand a tight fist against the wood of the table and his bandages hand pressed flat against his thigh. He heard Jordan and Dan come behind him to watch, flicked his eyes up enough to see that Jordan looked like he wanted to say something but was holding back.

The video started to play and he snapped back to the screen.

The camera was angled down, from a corner vantage point. A security camera, repurposed, if James had to guess. It didn’t get the full room, cut off the corner it was stationed at in a blind spot that James had no way of knowing the size of, but the room didn’t seem especially large judging by the rest of the room’s size.

Aleks set in frame, though far off to the side and pressed into the farthest corner to the door just visible on screen, sitting on the ground with his legs to his chest. His face was bloody, both eyes blackened, but he didn’t look hurt otherwise, leaning his head against the wall and staring at the ceiling. This was the first confirmation that he was alive that James had got since he’d heard him Tased. His heart hammered in his chest. The pain finally went numb.

He was alive - at least, he had been.

James wouldn’t admit to the relief, if pushed, but it was almost overwhelming. He’d lost people before, everyone had in this line of business, but to lose Aleks wasn’t something he was willing to think about.

There was no sound at first and then, suddenly, there was, and the twitch of Aleks’ jaw that James could make out was explained. Music was playing, high-pitched and loud, not repetitive in the slightest. It was more like static maybe, more akin to _It’s A Small World_ that to something that was found on the radio. There was a loud screech that broke through the music, made Aleks flinch into the wall, cover his ears. It made James wince, too; he couldn’t imagine how loud it must be for Aleks.

While Aleks was still flinching, the door to the room swung open so fast that it boomeranged off the wall and back, stopped by a gloved hand that became a bare arm that led to a bared chest. The Lurkster.

He swaggered into the room, a Taser on his built but otherwise unarmed. Behind him, the Clown entered - also shirtless, but wearing the same mask as in his profile picture, along with a cross necklace that hung way too low.

The music shut off, and the sudden silence was disconcerting. James was suddenly aware of his own lack of breathing, of how loud Jordan’s and Dan’s breathing was.

“Aleksandr,” The Lurkster broke the quiet, “That’s you, isn’t it?”

Aleks didn’t respond. He didn’t even look up from where he’d hidden his face in his arm.

The Lurkster nodded at the Clown and he went farther into the room, reached out for Aleks and dragged him by the collar of his shirt in a hard jerk that would have forced the average person to the ground. James already saw the mistake before he’d even made it.

Instead, Aleks lashed out - went with the pull and rammed into the Clown’s legs. He went down with a loud yelp, and then Aleks was on top of him. Aleks got two good hits to his face in with his zip-tied wrists before the Lurkster lurched forward to pull him off. Aleks turned on him next, twisting out of his grip and kicking his leg out. He caught the Lurkster in the gut, sent him flying into the opposite wall hard enough to set James’ teeth on edge, and then used the momentum to bring his leg down on the Clown’s chest.

With both of them incapacitated, Aleks stood up and went for the Lurkster - for the Taser, presumably.

The Clown caught his foot just before he got out of reach and Aleks went down with a shout, catching himself on his hands awkwardly. He tried to roll over, but the Clown had dragged himself on top of him, had him pinned by the head and hips. James watched Aleks struggle uselessly, felt his anger mounting. When he got his hands on these two…

“If you keep moving, I’m going to hurt you.” The Clown warned and, when Aleks didn’t heed him, pulled his arm back and boxed Aleks in the side of the head. Almost immediately, Aleks went limp. Something about the Clown’s voice pinged James as... _known_.

“Jesus, _shit_ , did you kill him, you idiot?” The Lurkster gasped, finally getting enough air back into his lungs to talk.

“Of course not,” The Clown stood up, dragging Aleks onto his limp knees by his shirt and then tossing him to the ground like trash, “He’s in a lot of pain, but he isn’t dead.”

And, as he said, Aleks was already moving again - delayed now, sluggish and not nearly as strong as before. His hands were still tied together and it was obviously throwing him off.

The Lurkster pulled his Taser, but the Clown shook his head. Instead, the video glitched out and cut to _some_ time later.

Aleks was significantly bloodier. James paused the video.

“That’s enough,” Jordan said from behind him, gripping his shoulder, “James, that’s enough. Don’t do this to yourself.”

James didn’t listen. He unpaused the video.

“We told you to stop struggling,” The Clown cleared his throat, “Running into the door like that didn’t help you at all, did it?”

Aleks sneered something guttural and angry - Russian. James, surprisingly, hadn’t heard him speak his mother tongue much in their years together. Russia - and everything to do with it - always made Aleks uncomfortable. It was weird to hear it coming from him, now.

They’d tied him up, his arms twisted behind his back now and forced onto his toes. It was a stress position - James was familiar with them from his own experiences, both in the position and from putting others in one. If Aleks tried to lower his feet, his arms would be pulled out of their sockets. Eventually, he would lose his strength or his balance and it would happen anyway. The fear of it, though, worked to sweat answers out in the hopes that the ropes would be loosened.

The rest of the video was nearly ten minutes of questions. The Lurkster would ask something, Aleks wouldn’t answer, the Clown would punch him in the stomach or prod him with some sort of stick that made Aleks yelp and convulse, and the Lurkster would repeat his question. Aleks would start yelling in Russian, and wouldn’t stop until the Clown had beaten him into submission. At one point, he lost his footing long enough to scream in pain - his arms, James assumed - and the Clown just laughed until he was able to get his feet back under himself.

Finally, _finally_ , the Lurkster called a halt.

“He’s not broken yet.” He finally gave in, “Let’s let him...rest. Cut him down. It wouldn’t do to ruin his arms, we’ve still got a few days before we get out of here. Where’s the fun in starting so fast?”

“You’re soft on him,” The Clown sighed, but pulled a knife out of his pocket and moved behind Aleks to reach up and grab the rope.

James watched the way he pressed against Aleks’ back to reach the rope above his head, the way Aleks tensed up and tried to arch away, the swift look of panic and disgust. The Clown stopped sawing at the rope long enough to tilt his masked face into the side of Aleks’ neck, say _something_ that the camera didn’t catch that had Aleks start to struggle frantically all over again.

“Keep moving and he’ll cut you, man,” The Lurkster said, like he didn’t care at all, and Aleks didn’t stop struggling at all until the Clown started sawing again.

When the Clown cut through the last of the rope, Aleks’ shaking legs gave out and he fell to the ground. He didn’t waste time, though - just propelled himself so his back was against the wall and he could watch both of them with an angry sneer on his face. He spat something at the Clown in Russian, trying to wriggle his arms free, and both of his captors just laughed.

“We’ll leave you for a while,” The Clown walked over, knife still in hand, and Aleks’ switched his look to the blade. Eyes on the bigger threat; James knew the feeling. He had a lot of scars from not following that rule.

Still, Aleks was focused on the knife and he wasn’t fast enough to react when the Clown reached out for his head and scrubbed a hand through his hair in a rough, cruel ruffle. Aleks tried to bite him, but the Clown moved away fast enough and lashed out with a kick that caught Aleks in the thigh, made him curl up because his arms were still tied up tight behind his back and there wasn’t any real way he could protect himself. James would bet that his legs were jelly and pained from being forced to stand in the same position for so long. Aleks was fast - but he wasn’t an endurance fighter. He, and especially his legs, had a lot of juice but very little stamina. Even ten minutes in that position must have been hell, let alone however long they had had him before restarting the video.

The two of them left the room, but James couldn’t tear his eyes off Aleks. The door closed and, slowly, Aleks let himself relax. James watched him check himself over without really moving, knew he was doing a mental check. Probably had some sort of commentary going on to amuse himself because he hated when things were too quiet. He was bloody - his face a mess after a presumed beating, but he rolled both shoulders without too much of a problem and he didn’t have any stab wounds or cuts.

He leaned his head against the wall, closed his eyes - maybe to get some rest.

The music started up again - loud enough to make Jordan and Dan jump from behind James. James didn’t quite think he was in his own body enough to feel the surprise.

Aleks felt it, though, because he jumped out of his skin - his eyes flying open. He yelled again, this time in frustration, and then the video went dark and the window minimized.

He moved to start the next video, but his wrists were tied to the chair. When he looked down to check the knots, see if they’d tied them too tight for him to break free, he realized there was nothing there.

“James,” Jordan said, loud enough that he finally looked at him.

He would have snapped back a response, but the gag between his teeth -

“James!” Jordan said again, grabbing the back of the chair and twisting it around so James wasn’t looking at the screen anymore, “James, you stupid fucker, look at me,”

James _would_ , but he was blindfolded, what part of _he was kidnapped_ wasn’t Jordan understanding - except then he had two hands on his face and he flinched back - scared of what those hands were going to do to him, _again_ and _again_ , but they didn’t hurt him.

“James, hey, you’re here. You’re _safe_ , you’re _here_ , look at me,”

He blinked and the blindfold was gone, Jordan kneeling in front of him and holding his face between warm hands, concern and anger on his face. Jordan always got angry when he was concerned.

“There we go,” Jordan’s shoulders slumped, “You’re here.”

James’ looked around wildly, hands finally reaching up from the chair arms to grab Jordan’s wrists, anchor himself with them. He wasn’t in the dark. He was in an unfamiliar conference room, with Jordan. Dan was gone, the door still shut.

Somehow, even though it was Jordan, he still begun to calm down a little.

“You shouldn’t have watched that.”

“I,” James started to say, and his throat was dry like he hadn’t had water in a week. He needed to drink something. He needed to eat something. He was going to die in this _fucking hole_ if he didn’t get something in his body -

“Here,” Jordan stood up and disappeared from sight. He came back ten seconds - James counted - later, a bottle of water in hand. James didn’t take it until Jordan forced it into his good hand after opening it, and then he took a careful sip and then another, and then gulped it down until the bottle was empty.

Jordan watched, brows furrowed, until he was done. He didn’t react when James kept the bottle close, upside down and in hand. If he waited long enough, the drops of water left behind would collect at the top-turned-bottom and he could reopen it and drink the rest.

After a few minutes of quiet, Jordan still keeping eye contact, not talking but breathing loud enough that James could count his inhales and exhales.

This was familiar, in a way that it wasn’t because they hadn’t done it in _years_ but still was in that they’d had to do it _for_ years.

He came back to himself in pieces. His feet first - loose, not tied down. He wouldn’t have to slowly work them free over the course of days, terrified that they would notice. Then his legs - they hurt, they were covered in burns and glass, but the pain was different. Cuts, yes, but not deliberate. His thighs, not as many injures - a stark difference. His groin and hips - no humiliating puddle, no pain or threat of manhandling unless he gave the information they wanted. His abdomen, not eating itself - no pangs of hunger so intense they left him sick or bruises from beatings. His ribs and chest - sore from the last few days and the sudden panic that had made it hard to breathe, but nothing broken or bruised or cracked. His sternum - painful from his hard breathing, but otherwise fine. His throat, not so dry he couldn’t even swallow, begging for water or more oxygen than was being piped in. His arms were in pain and weak but nothing broken or cut up like before. His hands weren’t tied. He could move them. He clutched the empty water bottle in his fingers - none broken, no nails pulled. His face, warm and sweaty but not puffy from bruises that weren’t allowed to heal or lack of sleep.

He was okay.

His mind was the last thing to reconnect, to put together the pieces and let hot shame to fill him to the brim. He closed his eyes, broke contact with Jordan, and turned back to the table. He covered his face with his hands, breathed out sharply in what he refused to call a sob, felt his eyes sting and his shoulders shake.

Careful, hesitant, Jordan’s hand set on his shoulder.

“I’ll watch the second video.” He said softly, “I’ll tell you if anything important happens.”

“I _have_ to see it,” James choked out. “I have to know what they did to him.”

“Okay,” Jordan pulled another chair over and set at his side. James should have pushed him away - he shouldn’t have taken comfort from this. But Jordan was the only one who _knew_. Days where James wouldn’t leave Jordan’s spare room. Nights when he woke up from nightmares and he had to call him to calm down. It had been nearly every night, after he’d escaped and gone to Jordan. Every night, until his bones had healed, until he could drink or eat without feeling like someone was going to attack him or tell him that the food was poisoned all along. Eventually, the nightmares grew rarer. He hadn’t had an attack like this in...a long time. He didn’t understand. He’d tortured people between _then_ and now, had seen it happen. He shouldn’t be reacting like this. Aleks needed him to be strong - and he was going crazy, like he’d escaped a few weeks earlier and not almost a decade ago. Like _Aleks_ wasn’t the one in trouble.

“Focus on me,” Jordan said firmly, bringing his attention back to him, “You’re fine, James. You’re safe. It’s just a video.”

“It’s just a video,” James swallowed, reached out for to open the file. It was named with yesterday’s date.

“Exactly.” Jordan said loudly, over the music that immediately cut in before the feed even went on. Aleks was sitting in a different spot from before. The floor was wet now, covered in water that James didn’t for a second think wasn’t freezing cold. His face looked exhausted, gaunt and bruised dark under his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His reaction time was slow - he jumped a full four seconds after the next screech in the music.

It was all so familiar. The music was different - but the water, the sleep deprivation...James reached out, grabbed Jordan’s wrist. He couldn’t let go. Jordan didn’t make him.

The door opened with a burst of energy - similar to before, but not so hard that it banged back. The Clown walked in first this time, followed by the Lurkster, who carried a big pitcher of water.

“It’s been over forty-eight hours,” The Lurkster leaned against the wall, closed the door, “You must be real tired.”

Aleks snapped something in Russian, but his words slurred.

The Clown accepted the pitcher of water from the Lurkster and James knew what was coming before it even happened - knew the familiar bite of icy cold as it splashed over him and soaked into his hair and his already-freezing skin, into the cuts and bruises and made his joints ache.

Aleks took it a lot better than he had, yelping at the water but keeping his shit together. Jordan was shaking. When James looked at him, he realized it was him who was shaking.

“There, that oughta keep you up. You ready to answer some questions, now?” The Clown cleared his throat and tossed the pitcher back at the Lurkster, who caught it with a roll of his eyes.

Aleks didn’t respond.

“You know, you aren’t our first go at this. We’ve got days together, Aleks,” The Lurkster spoke up, “We’ll break you. You don’t get sleep until we get answers. You don’t get to be dry until we get answers. You don’t get food until we get answers. Work with us, here.”

Aleks didn’t answer.

The Lurkster sighed.

The Clown cracked his knuckles.

“I bet he thinks he’s going to get rescued.”

“Shame.”

Aleks sneered at them, pulling his legs tighter to his body, a coiled spring.

“They always think they’re gonna get rescued,” The Clown continued, walking through the water to grab at Aleks. Aleks was too slow to stop him, but he fought viciously to get out of the grip the Clown had on his hair, probably ripping a good chunk of his own hair out. He was thrown into the middle of the room, landing on his side with a loud _oomph_ , his arms still tied behind his back.

“Who were you working for in Russia, Aleks?” The Lurkster asked and, when Aleks didn’t answer, sighed.

The Clown kicked him in the stomach, not as hard as he could have - but enough to make Aleks curl in on himself with a soft noise of pain.

“You think you’re so big and bad, huh? You’re special or something? That people are gonna come for you?”

The Clown crouched down, grabbed Aleks’ face in one hand and shook it back and forth, like he was just trying to further discombobulate him, “I’ve got news for you, kid. That’s not gonna happen.”

Aleks spat at him. He was wearing a mask, so the effect was a little lackluster, but James still felt proud. He _was_ coming - he was fucking killing himself to get to Aleks. Aleks had to know that.

“Still too proud.” The Clown sighed, stood up and shoved Aleks over with his foot so he could rest it on his chest and lean down. He was putting a lot of weight on Aleks’ arms - James could see the way Aleks’ face screwed up in pain, but he held back any noise.

“I bet you think your crew is coming for you.” The Clown shook his head, “I bet you think _Nova_ is coming for you. You two are so...close, after all.”

The Lurkster laughed, “Close? They’re fucking.”

“Don’t be vulgar about it,” The Clown admonished, but his voice was teasing, “I’m sure they’re _making love_ ,”

“Fuck you,” Aleks finally snapped out, “Fuck you, fuck you -”

The Clown tsked, moving his foot to Aleks’ throat, “Hush. You had your chance to talk. We’re reminiscing now, Aleks. Do you remember Nova?”

But he wasn’t talking to Aleks, anymore. He was talking to his partner. The way he curved the ‘o’ of James’ name made his throat close.

“‘Course I do. He screamed so pretty.”

“He did!” The Clown laughed, “God, I heard him in my dreams for weeks after he got out. Guess that’s what we get for not checking his ties more often. We don’t use chairs anymore, see,” he looked down at the Clown, “Your boy showed us how that could come back to bite us.”

Aleks, glaring up at him, opened his mouth to retort. James saw the Clown put more pressure on his neck, until he was choking, struggling growing weaker until the Clown lifted his foot up and he inhaled hard.

“ _What are you talking about_?” the Clown said, raising his voice mockingly, “Is that what you want to ask? We’ll let you in on a little secret, then. They hired _us_ to grab _you_ for a reason. Good as we are, we don’t get high profiles like you often. And the ones we _do_ get...well. We try not to brag. Don’t want to bring attention to ourselves. But you’re a special case, Aleks. Nova...it’s been - fuck, what? Seven years? But I still remember him. You’re a lucky guy. Thanks for letting us see him again.”

“He had pretty hair,” The Lurkster agreed, “We cut it all off, but it was sad to see it go. Nice to grab on to when I was talking to him.”

Jordan paused the video.

James, barely breathing, stared at the frozen still of the Clown pinning Aleks by the throat.

“Enough,” Jordan started to stand up.

“Press play,” James responded, and his voice was firm.

“James -”

“Press play, Jordan.”

Giving in, but not happy about it, Jordan did.

“It’s grown back,” The Clown responded to his partner, “Longer than before. Bet it’d be fun to pull out again.”

“You should have cut him more,” The Lurkster said thoughtfully, “He sounded best when he was crying. You made him sing with your knife, remember?”

“He lasted about this long, too,” The Clown looked down at Aleks, “A few days longer, maybe. We had two whole weeks with him, though. We only got you for maybe five days? But then we’ve got that boat ride out to the plane. That’ll be a blast. He gave in around the one week mark, but he was too sweet to let go of - you should have _heard_ his begging. They don’t make ‘em like that anymore, that’s for sure.”

Aleks renewed his struggling, finally managing to knock the Clown away and roll out of his reach. He set up quickly, getting onto his knees and swaying a little - but firming up.

“You’re lying,” He hissed, “You’re _lying_ ,”

“I’ve got pictures,” The Clown said, and James could hear the smile in his voice, “He was too fun not to take videos of, too. I wish we could have plucked his eyes out instead of hiding them the whole time - but dark rooms always work best for his type and we weren’t paid enough to kill _Nova_. We’d of had too many people down our throat for that! Now, though...you guys have cut yourself off. You’re all alone - you’ve got Cockbite, but really...they have so many little crews to take care of. So, what if one person goes missing? Or maybe two.”

“They’re going to come for me,” Aleks said, not shaken at all, “And when they get their hands on you, you’re going to regret touching me. And when _I_ get my hands on you, you’re going to regret touching _him_ ,”

The Clown tsked again, shaking his head. “You really think they’re coming. They have no idea where you are, Aleks. You’re hidden in the depths of hell, and they can’t find you. They’ve been _trying_ , but they _can’t_. You’re going home to _mother Russia_ , and then whatever happens to you is out of our hands. Until then, though…You must be sick of this music, right? Let’s play something else. You’ll break eventually.”

He left, followed by the Lurkster after a moment of staring at Aleks with a small, twisted smile.

The door closed, locked with a loud shutter.

There was silence for a short minute - and then screams ripped through the speakers, filling the room.

“ _Stop_ , _please, stop, I told you everything, I told you everything,_ ” the audio stuttered, and it was a voice. Begging - sobbing, screaming.

It was James.

Aleks looked around wildly, getting onto his feet and shaking his head.

“No,” He shouted, “Don’t you _fucking dare_!”

All he got in response was _James_ , James seven years ago, James begging for the pain to stop, for them to kill him or for them to just let him _go_ , he’d _told them everything_ -

The video ended on Aleks kicking the door, yelling furiously and blending in with James’ screams.

He felt sick - and then he felt _angry_.

He’d thrown the laptop before he’d even realized he was doing it, standing up so fast that his chair flew back into the wall and then fell over from the force of the collision, crashing into the ground with the muffled sounds of plastic and cloth banging together. The water bottle rolled away.

“James, calm down,” Jordan stood up too, but James couldn’t even think straight. He was just _so angry_. He needed to - _hit_ something, and it was either Jordan or the wall and he wasn’t stupid enough to go after an actual person.

He swung around, reeled his fist back, and punched straight through the wall. It hurt - kind of - but, more than that, it released a little of the rage inside of him.

Jordan let him work it out without stopping him, let him rip holes in the wall with his feet and fists, let him turn on the chair when the wall got boring and hurl it against the floor until the back and wheels popped off with a shatter of plastic.

He didn’t step in until the bandages were soaked through enough to leave smears, catching James’ wrists before he could punch the wall again. He pulled him into a tight hug, a hand on the back of James’ head and his arms around him and James struggled for a second before he gave in. He pressed his face to Jordan’s shoulder, inhaled sharply, couldn’t help the stinging of his eyes. Shame and humiliation and anger all boiled inside of him, roasting him from the inside out. No one was supposed to know - not Joe, not _Aleks_ , _no one_ was supposed to know. This was supposed to be over, it hadn’t been _relevant_ in almost a decade. And now Aleks was with them - the people who had ruined his career in the solo game, who had turned his life into a living hell for so long that he had forced himself to forget about all of it. The first year with the Hub, when he’d gone to Jordan because he couldn’t be alone again, wouldn’t survive being taken and knowing that no one was coming for him again, was a blur now. He didn’t remember much of it at all, just that he was jumpy, had spent nearly every night at Jordan’s house and then had moved into the big house with the others. He hadn’t lived alone for years after. He’d brought Joe to him - because he knew that, at least with Joe, he wouldn’t feel abandoned. But he couldn’t tell Joe, not about this. Joe would have felt like shit, that he’d been living life while James had been locked in some sort of abandoned building and had to break himself free. He couldn’t tell _anyone_ \- he _hadn’t_ told anyone.

But Aleks knew now. Aleks knew and he was _with them_.

“I have to get him back,” James finally said, muffled into Jordan’s shirt.

“I know,” Jordan said, resigned, “I know you do.”

But James didn’t pull away just yet. He didn’t want to say it, but he’d missed Jordan. They’d been close one - James had trusted him with _this_.

“I should have listened to you, back then,” Jordan said after a short moment of quiet, just James’ heavy breathing or Jordan’s quiet inhales.

James didn’t try to pull away to see his face. If they looked at each other, they couldn’t do this.

“I couldn’t stay,” He admitted, “He needed to go. I wish I could have.”

“I was jealous.” Jordan lowered his voice, “You two are...Well. If he didn’t have you, he’d be a zombie. If you didn’t have him, you’d still be the old you and the old you wasn’t...happy. You make each other better. But I still...James, you’re dangerous for each other. You have to stop pretending he doesn’t mean anything to you, if you’re going down this path.”

James didn’t answer. He knew.

“And…” Jordan swallowed, hugged him tighter, “You need your crew.”

“I can’t -”  
“James,” Jordan cut him off, “You _need_ your crew. You can’t let yourself do this. You aren’t alone. You haven’t been alone in years.”

Closing his eyes, James nodded, reaching up to carefully hug him back.

“The Hub was something special,” Jordan said, and his voice was choked up, “I know that. We could have been...but that’s in the past. It’s time for us all to go forward. Let us go, James. Your new crew deserves that. You deserve that.”

It hurt, but in a way that James thought would be good - later on.

He nodded, slow, and Jordan finally let him go, took a step back to grab his shoulders and look him over.

“Now,” He forced a smile and James didn’t let himself think about how his eyes were red-rimmed, “Get the fuck out of here. What part of you aren’t good here isn’t clear to you?”

“Like I’d wanna be here, anyway,” James wiped his face quickly, got rid of the wetness in his eyes, “Who’d wanna be here?”

“Leave, James.” Jordan grabbed the folded bear off the table and shoved it into his hands.

James left - or, tried to. He still paused, couldn’t make himself go without saying it.

“I’m sorry,” He finally let out, his shoulders drooping.

“Yeah.” Jordan said back, “Me, too.”

He left.

Jordan didn’t follow.

Dan was waiting outside, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He gave James a small smile, and James returned it.

“You’ll be okay.” James couldn’t help but say, “Everyone else was.”  
“I know.” Dan shrugged, “It was...it was fun, while it lasted. Wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” James nodded, “It was.”

Dan went back into the room, shutting the door behind him, but James followed the hallway back to the front door. The Lads were still there, though it looked like they’d at least moved around a little.

“James,” Gavin straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the wall, his arm looped around Brownman’s shoulders, “You look a mess and a half. What happened?”

James shook his head. “Not important.”

“If you...say so.” Gavin raised an eyebrow, “Well, then. Where to now? What’s next on your grand list of tasks?”

James looked at the bear in his hand, unopened. He looked back at Gavin.

“Can you take me home?”

Gavin, a slow smile spreading across his face, nodded.

 


	4. The Bear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i thought id try posting in the morning instead of like 10 at night i hope this works a lil better for ppl!
> 
> AS ALWAYS: thank u to [kenn](http://allrighthello.tumblr.com/), [tay](http://nealinator.tumblr.com/), and [phoenix](http://amanduh-hess.tumblr.com/), ur all too good to me
> 
> PLS go tell [phoenix](http://amanduh-hess.tumblr.com/) how amazing his edits are bc they are and i Cry
> 
> you can find me at on [Tumblr](http://the-cockbite-syndicate.tumblr.com/) if you'd like! I post fake/gta!au stuff :)

Later, James would scream at him to never do it again, even knowing that he would.

Later, James would stop talking to him; run away, because he’d never felt so goddamn scared in his life as he had been cradling Aleks in his arms as he bled out.

Later, James would lock himself in his apartment and refuse to speak to anyone except Ein until Aleks was able to stay away and eat and talk and joke around, even if he still couldn’t get out of bed. He wouldn’t speak to Aleks for two weeks, he wouldn’t even  _think_  about him as more than a distant associate for nearly a week after that and they wouldn’t kiss or fuck or even touch for nearly two months after  _that_ , until they both got drunk and had lost an  _amazing_  deal with another crew and needed to either blow off steam with each other or blow up the base.

But that was later, when James and Aleks were both okay and James was sure that Aleks would be alive.

That was later, and this was now and James wasn’t sure that  _he_  was going to be alive in the following seconds because he was staring a woman in the face. She had a deputy’s blues on, a bulletproof vest and her gun pulled and aimed at him. Their eyes met, his surprised browns and her determined greens, and the gun had been pointed at his chest and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was a kill shot.

Time slowed down, it felt like. There was chaos around him - the other cops were being taken down. The Hub was a lot of things;  _stupid_ , too trusting,  _fucking in for his fists_ if he got out of this alive, but they weren’t incompetent when they had a common goal that everyone understood and  _killing the enemies_  was a pretty common goal even when they were infighting. But all of that felt...distant. Separated from he and this cop pointing a gun at him.

He saw her finger twitch and, in the instant before she shot, he saw it. What everyone always talked about; his life before his eyes. There wasn’t all that much. His childhood wasn’t noteworthy, not really. There were the small jobs he’d pulled with Joe when they were teenagers, his mom’s face smiling down at him - tired from being at work all day, the lonely nights, when he found his first gun, when he’d  _shot_  his first gun. There was the first hit he took, the first time he met Felix and the others, slowly climbing the ranks until he and Felix were neck-in-neck in a reasonably friendly competition to see who was the best. The weeks of hell after he’d been taken, the months and months of terror and hiding in Jordan’s house. The first time he’d seen Aleks, the look in his eyes that James knew to be the same terror that James had felt - the first time he’d seen Aleks  _hurt_  and realized he’d destroy people for this Russian rat Sly and pulled in. There was that night a few months ago, when he’d kissed Aleks without even thinking about it and Aleks had kissed back like he’d been drowning until James had come.

And then there was Aleks, in front of him.

It had happened so fast, for all that James had felt himself in slow-motion. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the gun and then his vision had been filled with  _Aleks_. And then his  _arms_  had been filled with Aleks as the gun went off with a loud  _bang_  that filled the room, filled his ears.

“Aleks,” He choked, like  _he’d_  been the one shot, “Oh, shit, Aleks,”

He looked up from the blood on Aleks’ shirt to his face, then back to the cop, but someone had already taken her out and she was a crumpled pile on the ground.

James dropped to his knees, Aleks held tight in his arms, dragging James’ attention to him like he always did. For someone who didn’t like being looked at, Aleks always managed for force James to notice him.

“Oh fuck,” Aleks gasped, his eyes filling with tears, “Oh  _shit_ , oh  _shit_ ,”

He pressed onto his stomach, screamed and dropped his head onto James’ shoulder, “Je _sus_ ,”

“You got shot,” James gaped stupidly, one hand moving to take over putting pressure on the wound, starting to strip his jacket off one-handedly, “You got  _shot_ , you took that bullet for me, oh  _fuck_ , Aleks, you’re bleeding everywhere; Help!” He shouted, looking up, “Immortal’s down, it’s not good!”  
“I don’t regret it,” Aleks shook his head, pressing a bloody hand over James’, gasping hard, repeating the words like they were a mantra, like he was talking to someone that wasn’t there, “I don’t regret it,”

“Shut  _up_ ,” James snarled, looking back down, “What were you thinking?”

“Sh-she had a gun,” Aleks tried to explain, but he was going into shock and James could see it. He looked around, but the others were still picking cops off, and he could hear more sirens in the distance. Kevin was in the corner, bleeding from a wound on his arm, but a carload of the Hub had shown up just as the bullets started flying and he looked around until he spotted Seamus.

“Seamus!” He yelled, but it was Sly whose attention he caught. He’d been exchanging pot shots with some rookie but, when his eyes found Aleks, he stopped playing around.

Knowing that Sly would get Seamus to them, James turned his attention back to Aleks. He succeeded in pulling his jacket off, bundling it up so he could press it to the wound, pulling both of their hands away so he could push the jacket down instead. Aleks flinched, groaned low and pained, staring up at him hazily.

“They all had guns,” James said, just to say something, “Aleks, talk to me, come on,” He realized his voice had cracked, reaching up to slap Aleks in the face as lightly as he could while still getting results, and he accidentally smeared blood across his cheek. “Come on, talk to me,”

“You’re okay?” Aleks slurred, narrowing his eyes to look at him, “You’re good?”

“Yeah,” James couldn’t help but laugh, his throat tightening up, panic swelling in his stomach, where the  _fuck_  was Seamus, “I’m okay, you stupid  _fucker_ , what were you  _thinking_ ,”

“Gunshots hurt,” Aleks shrugged, “It’s okay,”

“It’s  _not okay_ ,” James yelled, “You - Seamus, god _damn it_!”  
“Shh,” Aleks laughed a little, pained and weak, patted at James’ hand awkwardly, “You’re okay,”

“I’m  _fine_!” James glared at him, “ _You’re_  the asshole who got shot!”

“Doesn’t matter,” Aleks leaned his head on his shoulder, eyes starting to flutter, skin going clammy and pale, “‘s fine, I don’t regret it,”

Sly slid into the picture on his knees, his hands immediately going to the jacket and lifting it up to get a look at the wound. James let him, just trying to get his breathing in order. He’d...he’d never been this scared in his life.

“Shit, this isn’t good,” Sly looked around, and then looked at James, “Help me get him into a car, Seamus and Dan are waiting.”

James nodded and then pushed his arms under Aleks’ legs and braced against his back, waiting for Sly to get a good grip, too, and they lifted on a fast count of three.

Aleks made a high, pained noise, blurry eyed and bloody, and James couldn’t help but respond.

“We’re moving you,” He said, as soothingly as he could - which, he would admit, wasn’t very soothing. He wasn’t the soothing type, usually. Aleks made a barely-there sound, his head still slumping against James’ shoulder. He and Sly one-two stepped out of the warehouse, but James was taking most of the weight because he just  _couldn’t let go_. Aleks was heavy, didn’t feel like he was dying except for the warm patch of wet that was fast soaking through James’ shirt from his wound.

They got him in a car, but James didn’t go with them. It wasn’t very big, Seamus was going to need all the room he could get, there were people at the base that could help him. Hundreds of excuses.

The real reason was that James could barely stop himself from hurling until the car was out of sight.

What the fuck had he got the two of them into? What  _this_  what he was going to feel like every time Aleks got hurt? Was this going to be what Aleks’ did when James was in danger?

“I don’t regret it,” Aleks had said.

Staring after the car, still on his kneels from throwing up, James, for just a second, did.

-

He’d been staring between his phone and the bear since he’d got onto the plane.

“You still haven’t looked at it?” Brownman, sitting across from him and playing what may have been Flappy Bird in twenty-fuckin’-seventeen, asked, not looking up from his screen.

“I’m waiting.” James admitted, “My crew should be with me.”

“What if it was something you needed to do in Colorado?” Brownman asked, not sounding like he cared much either way.

“I dunno,” James swallowed, “We’ll go back.”

“You’re losing time if that happens, aren’t you?” Brownman raised an eyebrow, still not looking up, “That’ll suck.”

“Yeah,” James agreed, his eyes darting between his phone and the bear again. Joe’s voicemail alert was still on his screen. He hadn’t listened to it yet. He hadn’t called anyone to tell them he was coming back yet, either.

“You might want to do something,” Brownman cursed, his thumbs finally slowing their rapid tapping, “Call them or open it. Your eyes are going to fall out of your head if you keep moving them so fast.”

“Hardy har,” James muttered, tightening his grip on his phone. Brownman was right. Of course, he was right. James was just...Well. No one would ever describe him as brave, that was for sure.

“Just saying.” Brownman looked up, bored, “I’m Ray, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Um,” James blinked, “James. From Fake Chop. You’re helping me find my partner.”

“Yeah, that part I kinda gathered. Vav’s been on the edge of his fuckin’ seat about you losers. Well. Not losers. The Hub was a bust, but Geoff made it out like you were the clam’s money shot or something.”

“Thanks?” What the hell was a clam’s money shot? Was that the pearl? James was too tired to mix metaphors like this.

“I didn’t say it,” Ray shrugged, “Anyway, you look like a runner. Lemme just hit you with some wisdom now, bro. If your crew is anything like mine,” He glanced over to the other chairs, where Jeremy and Gavin had both fallen asleep across the table, empty champagne bottle between them, “They don’t let you disappear for long. Call ‘em before they send out a search party because you will never hear the end of it if they break into your apartment in New York to get you back.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you guys are nosy as fuck?” James sighed, standing up with both the bear and phone in hand.

“Yep,” Ray started a new game on his phone and visibly lost what little interest in the conversation he’d been holding, “Have fun. Good luck. Don’t cry.”

James bit back a groan, turned and went to the other cabin. Michael was flying them to LA, not trusting Gavin or Jeremy to do it and Ray nose-goes’ing out of it, leaving James to claim the whole back of the plane as his own. He closed the door behind him, locking himself in the narrow cabin. There was a bed, as luxury as a plane could be, and a small bathroom, but James took the seats along the wall instead of either of those options. A bathroom was...weird, and the bed was even weirder.

He pressed on the notification for Joe’s voice mail and gave his password, almost dreading what he’d hear. He knew Joe wasn’t mad at him, at least, but Joe’s disappointed face was worse than James’ mom’s.

“Hey, James,” Joe started with, “We didn’t find much. We think we may have a lead on who took him, but his past is pretty airtight. We got into contact with Sly, but he wouldn’t say much - if you ask me, he probably didn’t know much. All we managed to get was a copy of the records Aleks came into the country with - but he’s had these for years, he  _still_  has these. We really need to get him new papers.”

“Yeah,” James found himself laughing, bitter. He and Aleks maybe should have taken care of that a long time ago.

“Anyway,” Joe continued, “We haven’t given up. Brett and Jakob are looking into the leads on who grabbed him, we found a camera they missed and we managed to get a snap of their faces - or, their masks, at least - as they dragged him into the van. Trevor is still tracking the van. We’ve followed him for about twenty blocks, he thinks it’s gonna get easier soon, when they stop being evasive. Call me. Let me know you’re okay.”

He swallowed, ended the message as the voice started listing out options. So, they’d managed to track the van, after all,  _and_  get the masks of his kidnappers. They could have passed the pictures around to identify them.

James didn’t regret leaving - he had concrete names, concrete  _whys_ , and tapes proving that Aleks was still alive, if not okay. He had routes out of the country, roadblocks that he could set up as soon as he was on the ground again. He’d made a lot of progress - but so had they. He could see where he maybe could have put his trust in them a little more than he had.

He dialed Joe, pressed the phone to his ear, breathed deep as he heard the line start to ring.

Joe picked up on the first ring, didn’t make him wait until the last like he’d grown used to these last few days.

“Hey,” Joe said casually, “How’s it?”

“I’m on my way back,” He said in one breath, so he couldn’t talk himself out of it.

“What?” Joe’s voice raised in shock, “Back? Did you find him?”

“No,” James pressed against the paneled wall of the jet, feeling the subtle curve against his spine, “I just...realized some things. I’ve got another clue. Apparently, it’s the last one, and then we’ll find out where he is.”

“James, that’s... _fuck_ ,” Joe said, sounding relieved, “That’s great.”

“I know who took him. I’ve got a lot of information, now. I’ll give it to you guys when I’m back.”  
“When will you be here?”

“The Fakes are flying me back now. The airfield where I left my car - Sandy Shore. You still tracking that?”

“We picked it up yesterday,” Joe confirmed, “You got an ETA? I’ll come pick you up.”

“Uh,” He looked at the time on his screen, surprised as how willing Joe was. “Two hours.”

“Okay,” Joe paused and James thought he could hear someone in the background saying something, “Yeah, okay, I’ll be there. No doubt.”  
“Okay,” James repeated, feeling his throat tighten with sudden emotion, “I’ll see you.”

“Definitely.”

Joe hung up, but it wasn't abrupt. It felt like a pause, more than an end to the conversation.

James leaned over, rested his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. He was just so tired. That’s what it was.

-

The landing wasn’t smooth, but it wasn’t...Jeremy levels, either. James set across from Gavin again, both strapped in, and having a staring contest - only because Gavin had caught his eye, looking like he wanted to say something, and just hadn’t yet. James wasn’t going to be the one scared off this time. He didn’t have anything to be ashamed of.

“I am rooting for you, you know,” Gavin finally said, a little loud because the wheels were hitting the tarmac.

James, unsure, carefully nodded.

“It's just,” Gavin paused until the plane had fully come down, “That Geoff loves you all so much. His little children, every one of you. The Hub failing hurt him.” He leaned forward, his face completely serious for the first time that James had ever seen, “ _You_ , Fake Chop, can't fail. It would hurt him. And this,” he swept his hand out, caught himself and the other Lads, James, the jet, in his gesture, “All of this, us, are here to make sure Geoffrey never hurts again. Understand? You  _will_  be successful. And happy.”

“I don't think you can order us to be either of those things,” James said, but he felt...warmed. He had loved the Hub, had bled and died for it, but he’d never felt supported by it in the same way. It was nice to know that the Fakes supported them, were rooting for them. That their success was essential to the Fakes’ goals.

“I’m the Golden boy,” Gavin scoffed, sitting back in his chair, “Watch me.”

“Yes, sir.” James sighed, but he was...relieved, maybe. It wasn't a good feeling, being the recipient of Gavin's ire.

“Now,” Gavin kicked his feet up, “Go home. If you need help, don't call us. That's what your crew is for. Tell Immortal I said hello.”

“I will.” James stood up, turned to Jeremy and Ray and gave a small wave in goodbye, and then hurried out of the cabin. He caught Michael's eye as he was leaving, though the cockpit door, and they shared nods, and then he was out of the open airlock and down the stairs. There was a security officer at the bottom, just like there had been when the Vagabond came to pick him up, and he didn’t even look at James, but James felt weird not at least nodding at him as he walked by.

There, where he’d left his car, was Joe’s four-door. Joe and Jakob were both leaning on the car, ankles and arms crossed, talking to each other, but James had barely made it off the jet - sans duffle bag but still holding the suitcase of tools he didn’t really remember taking with him with Aleks’ sunglasses perched on his head - when Jakob spotted him and straightened up with a big, broad wave and a loud, “ _James!_ ”

Joe smiled, big and familiar and relieved, and then James’ knees buckled.

He could say it was the pain. That he’d been stressing his body out nonstop for the last two and a half days, that spending three hours sitting in a jet had let his muscles weaken up. He could say that it was the burns, or the glass wounds, or that he was just tired. They’d believe him, or at least pretend to, no matter what he said. And neither of those things were even really lies, not when he thought about it.

But they weren’t why his knees buckled.

He wouldn’t say it to anyone, except maybe Aleks, if he pushed, but it was in relief. He hadn’t realized how scared he’d been that Joe - and Jakob - would be angry at him for leaving - that they would leave him in return.

“James, shit,” Joe met him halfway, catching him before he actually fell, and then Jakob was with him, too, and they were helping him.

“I’m okay,” James shook his head, making himself stand up right and taking his weight off of them, “I’m fine, I just...a lot happened.”

“Yeah,” Jakob looked him over, picking up one of James’ arms and holding it out. He still hadn’t changed his bandages, “You got attacked by a bear. What the fuck?”

“Funny you should say that,” James gave a strained smile, “I’ll explain when we’re back at base. Is everyone else there?”

“No one’s left,” Joe confirmed, starting to walk with him. He didn’t slow his step so James could keep up but, somehow, James was never behind him. Joe was a good guy.

Jakob, on the other hand, had no reservations about bounding ahead to the car and pulling the passenger side door open for James.

“Thanks,” James said weakly, and then collapsed into the seat. He’d been in Joe’s passenger seat thousands of times - had been with Joe for every exchange of vehicles since he was fifteen, but the smell never changed. His whole body suddenly kicked up the aching, making him wince, and he realized it was because he’d actually managed to relax for the first time since Aleks has been taken.

Jakob shut the door and, while he was scrambling into the back seat and Joe was getting in to drive, James leaned his head back on the headrest for a few seconds, just to rest his stinging eyes.

“James?” Joe touched his shoulder and he startled, forcing his eyes open to look around, wide eyed.

They were at the warehouse.

“What?” He blinked a few times, lifting his arm up to rub his eyes, “When did we…”

“You fell asleep,” Joe said quietly, like he didn’t want to wake James up, “We just let you. You look exhausted, man.”

“I am,” James admitted, and he sounded pathetic, but he was just...glad. To be home. He’d never really thought of LA as home before, and it still didn’t feel  _right_ , without Aleks, but...Achievement City was okay but it had rubbed him wrong, and Denver had been a kick in the teeth to remind him that it hadn’t been home, either. They’d both served to very firmly tell him where he belonged.

“Come on,” Joe squeezed his shoulder lightly, thankfully, and then got out of the car. James followed, closing his door and then looking up at the warehouse with a growing sense of dread.

He may have been home, but he hadn’t exactly left with a blessing.

Time to face the music. Brett’s music, at the very least.

Jakob had grabbed his suitcase, but he didn’t start walking until James did, staying at his back without a word. It actually did bring James a strange sense of comfort.

Joe held the door for him, and he walked into the warehouse with confidence he didn’t feel. No one was in the little waiting area, but Brett’s office was dark, too. When he peered inside, the other door was closed, leaving only one way for him to get to the other side.

“Everyone’s by the couch,” Joe explained, “I told them we were on our way.”

“Thanks,” James said, even though he wasn’t actually all that thankful. He rubbed his face, squared his shoulders like he was getting ready to go into a meeting with some important new rivals, and walked down the hallway, past the bathroom and then the kitchen. The only light on was the overhead light above the couch, illuminating the people on it and the table and TV that they used to plan heists and raids. It cast an ominous glow across everyone - Anna and Asher sitting together, just inside where the light touched; Trevor and Aron sitting on the coffee table, quietly mumbling over a phone; Lindsey and Brett on the couch, Brett’s legs and arms crossed, Lindsey staring at him with a raised eyebrow, but everyone else were oddly expressionless.

James stood in the kitchen, unsure of his welcome, but he didn’t stand around for long. Aleks was still missing - whether they were angry at him or not, he would need their help with whatever task that the bear had to give him and they wouldn’t abandon Aleks just because they were mad at him.

Next to him, Jakob and Joe both paused and looked at him.

“Hey,” Jakob glanced over at the others and then reached for him and pressed the back of his hand to the back of James’, “I’ve got your back, man.”

“Not that he needs to,” Joe frowned at Jakob, but looked earnestly at James, “We aren’t mad. We’re just glad you know how to find him.”

“Yeah.” James licked his lips, nodded, “Okay. I’ve got...shit. I’ve got a lot to tell you. All of you.”

“Then come tell us,” Joe nudged him again and headed for the couch.

After another pause, James followed, Jakob still at his side. James had been lucky, when he found Jakob. He was loyal, even after everything.

“Nice of you to come back,” Brett said when he hit the couch area, pulling a face, but the furrowed brow and the angry stare melted when he caught a glimpse of James in the light. His arms and legs uncrossed, starting to stand up, “James! What the fuck happened - You’re bleeding!”

“Oh,” He glanced at his arms, where the blood was still dry and staining his bandages. His hand hurt, now that he thought about it. A lot, but what else was new at this point.

“I’m...kinda fucked up. But that doesn’t matter; I’ve got information.”

“James, Jesus, your hand?”

“Shut up, it’s a long story,” James waved it away, turning to the TV and grabbing the keyboard and remote to it, “Look,”

He pulled up his email, opened the folder, started the slideshow of pictures, “The old bitch gave these to me. She said she got access to them earlier. We’ve got copies of their recon, routes, maps, their names and faces. Just one more thing,” he pulled the bear out of his pocket with his good hand, “One more task, she said, and she’ll give us the location.”

“Let me look at this,” Brett took the keyboard, started to click through the pictures. He didn’t hesitate over the one of them against Aleks’ door, none of them even blinked, and James found himself relaxing just a little more. He and Aleks...they weren’t exactly Fake Chop’s best kept secret, but not having anyone make a big deal out of it was...Well, it took one problem off his plate, to say the least.

Brett went from picture to picture, slower than James had gone through them, but Lindsey was the one to comment on it.

“If Aleks was the target, why did they take so many pictures of you, too?”

“Maybe because he hangs out with Aleks outside of here so much,” Aron leaned forward, tapping something out on his phone but barely tearing his eyes away from the TV long enough to check he wasn’t making mistakes.

James didn’t comment.

Brett moved on to the pdfs after they’d gone through the pictures, opening all four at once and sizing them so they were all on the screen. “So, these are the fuckers...how the fuck could she get these if she wasn’t working with them?”

“I don’t know,” James shrugged, but he couldn’t stop looking between the Lurkster and the Clown. He could feel himself sweating, cold.

“ _Videos_?” Trevor said, loudly enough to make James startle, “Brett, show the videos,”

“Wait,” James cut in, louder than necessary, pushing up from where he’d been kneeling, “Don’t.”

“You can’t keep them from us,” Trevor turned to glare at him, “Those are interrogation videos, if you saw them then we have the same right, too,”

“Stand down, Trev,” Joe said easily, stepping forward so he was between them, “James has obviously gone through some shit. This is his information. Let him explain it.”

Trevor, not happy but at least not arguing, backed down.

“They,” James tried to find some way to explain, “You won’t find anything from watching them. I’d know.”

“I’m watching them,” Trevor stared him down, “I don’t care what happens in them.”

“Can’t you just,” James swallowed back the bile rising in his throat, “Can’t you just trust me? You won’t get anything from them, except private information that you don’t need.”

“James, we all know the two of you are fucking!” Trevor stood up, “That’s not  _important_ , you arrogant asshole! You can’t just disappear for three days and then come back here with demands about keeping things from us just because of your goddamn  _pride_!” He took a step forward, and James had never really noticed how much taller Trevor was than him. “You couldn’t trust  _us_. Why should  _we_  trust  _you_?”

And there it was. The fall back he’d been expecting.

“Shut the fuck up, Trevor,” Jakob rushed forward to defend James, and he was tall too, taller than Trevor, dropping the suitcase to the ground and clenching his fists by his side, “You don’t speak for any of us; James  _started_  this crew, he wouldn’t betray us - he  _didn’t_  betray us. Look around, did any of us find shit? He’s here with  _everything_  -”

“Go suck a dick, Jakob,” Trevor snapped back, “You aren’t even a part of this crew, what’s it matter to you!?”

“You’re just mad that  _James_  is gonna find Aleks and you couldn’t do shit, because  _you’re_  shit!”

“Stop!” James yelled, raising his voice louder than them both.

They both went silent, turning to look at him - aggressive and wide-eyed. Tempers were running too high, and it was his fault, and he should have... _done_  something, but he couldn’t stop thinking about phantom fingers in his hair and the way the Clown had said the  _o_  in Nova.

“Trevor,” He finally forced himself to continue, “Jakob is just as much a part of this crew as any of us, so shut the fuck up. Jakob,” He continued before Trevor could start again, “Trevor’s right. You all deserve to know what’s on the videos. Fine. Watch them. I need to go change my bandages. Don’t let my pride get in the way.”

“James -” Joe started to say, stepping forward as if to follow him, but James just shook his head.

“Watch the videos, Joe.” He said through the acid in his mouth. They’d all know after this. Then he wouldn’t have any more of his stupid pride left.

He disappeared into Brett’s office, making sure to turn the light on before he went in. He shut the door behind him, he didn’t want to hear any of it, and went to the medical drawer. His hand would be difficult to change but he’d left it long enough. If he didn’t change it soon, it would get infected - if it wasn’t already - and he’d fucking lose it.

A sniper with no hand. He had to laugh. It was a funny, pathetic image. Much like him, currently.

He decided to go with his legs first. They would be easiest, he could maybe get Jakob to help him with his arms and hand after they were all done in the other room, if Jakob could still respect him enough to even look at him.

He pulled the hem of his pants down, kicking the sweatpants off and sitting on Brett’s cleared off desk so he could pull one leg up to start unwrapping. The wounds there hadn’t reopened too much, just in a few places - probably from when he’d gone ape on Jordan’s wall - and he cleaned the whole thing quickly - carefully avoiding the still-covered burn areas - and then started rewrapping from ankles to above his knees. He was sure there was still glass in there - Caleb had done his best but he was only one man and he had a lot of shit to take care of on James’ fucked up body - but he ignored it for now. It would work itself out, given time. He taped the new bandages in place, moved on to his next leg.

He finished them both quickly, but had to stop. He was too tired to keep changing things, even if his arms and hand were the most needy. His fingers were shaking, his vision blurry.

He covered his face with his hands, inhaled sharply in what he refused to think was a sob. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want the others to watch those videos. He didn’t want to do any more tasks - he just wanted Aleks.

He took a deep breath, made himself sit up and pull the bear out of his pocket. He stared at it in his hands, contemplating his next move. He’d planned to open it with the crew, find out what  _they_  needed to do. Now, this all seemed like a big fucking mistake.

He unfolded the bear slowly, careful of the twists and folds that had created the intricate shape. He was only a few folds away from the note when there was a loud crash from the other room and a handful of screams - noticeably Lindsey and Aron.

He bolted out of the room, half scared that Jakob and Trevor had thrown down and no one had stopped them, not even remembering to grab his pants until he was already in the main room in his goddamn boxers.

The TV was on the ground, the screen frozen on the still image of Aleks’ kicking at the door. There was a black hole in the middle, a spider web of cracks coming out of it, green and pink and blue bars ripping across the image where the pixels had been damaged.

When he looked up from the TV on the ground, Joe was standing where it had once been, heaving. One of his fists, shaking at his sides, was bloody.

“Joe, what the fuck?” He looked between Joe and the TV, “Jesus, your knuckles - Brett, he  _punched the television_  -”

“You,” Joe cut him off - and he sounded more pissed off than James had ever heard him, “You didn’t  _tell me_. Why did you  _tell me_!?”

“Joe, I -” James started to say, and then couldn’t say anymore. He’d been ashamed, was the short and long of it. He’d been ashamed that he’d been so arrogant as to think he was safe just because of his reputation. He’d been ashamed that he’d been so  _alone_ , that he’d gone missing for two weeks and not even his mom had noticed because she was so used to him going off the map with no contact between them for so long. He’d been ashamed that he’d broken, that they’d hurt him enough and he’d cracked under the pressure; that, apparently, his screams were appealing enough for them to want to keep him around. He’d been ashamed that he’d lost control of his body, that he’d begged for food and water, would have done a lot more than he had for it; that he’d gone to Jordan, because Jordan was closest and wouldn’t look down on him, that he hadn’t had to worry about losing respect with Jordan. He’d been ashamed that he couldn’t leave a well-lit room, that he couldn’t sleep without nightmares for months and months, that he had to have at least one light on no matter where he was. He’d been ashamed that he was terrified to be alone, and to be with people.

And he’d recovered, but he’d never felt proud about it. He’d gone back to his work, with a crew - because he was so scared to go solo, to not know that  _someone_  was expecting him back - and he’d put it behind him and moved on, as much as he could. But he hadn’t told  _anyone_. The shame of it -  _his_  shame...it was too much to tell. Especially to someone like Joe, who would have been crushed.

Instead of answering, he shrugged. He didn’t realize his eyes were watering until they started to sting so badly he had to touch his fingers to one just to see if he’d got ointment in it or something.

“You  _idiot_ ,” Joe stomped toward him and then threw his arms around James and pulled him into a tight, painful hug, “You  _absolute idiot_ ,”

“I,” James started and then couldn’t continue again. His arms flailed uselessly at his side for a long moment, unsure of what he was supposed to be doing. He and Joe didn't hug very often - James wasn't a hugger, not even with Aleks. First Jordan, and now Joe...it was...a lot.

Finally, James wrapped his arms around Joe, fingers clenching into the fabric of his shirt. He rubbed his face against his own shoulder, determined to stay dry-eyed. After all of this, he wasn't going to  _cry_  in front of everyone to.

“Sorry,” he found himself saying, because it was all he could say.

Joe just squeezed him harder and, to James’ horror, he felt a growing patch of warm wetness against his shoulder.

“Joe, dude,” he said, and his voice cracked, “It's fine.”

“It's  _not fine_ ,” Joe pulled away to glare up at him, “You - you were kidnapped and you were tortured and you never  _told me_! You could have died - you could have -” he cut himself off, shaking his head hard enough that James was pretty sure his brain was rattling.

“But I didn't.” He said, going for reassuring, “I'm fine, Joe. Look at me.”

He spread his arms out, only realizing that he...really wasn't a pinnacle of physical fitness at the moment after he’d done it. Pantsless, legs in clean bandages but arms and hand still bloody, the knuckles of his other hand bruised from beating a wall in. He had scars, of course he did; some from his weeks in the room, others from different points in his life. The scar just in his hairline from the explosion a few years ago, the knife wounds he’d got fighting that Swedish assassin, the bullet grazes and burn marks from years of dangerous living.

But he was alive. That was the best he had to offer.

“You look like a walking car accident.” Joe snapped at him, but at least he had stopped crying. “What happened?”

“I had to crawl through some tunnels to get the files,” he shrugged, “And I got a few electrical burns. My, uh, hand isn't in the best shape.”

“You're a  _sniper_ ,” Joe reached for his injured hand and James let him take it, work out whatever he was feeling by moving it this way and that. He was beyond gentle with it, because it was still Joe, and the anger drained into something a little more sad.

“You should have told me.”

“I didn't tell anyone,” James admitted, turning his eyes to the ground, “I went to Jordan, but that was it. Aleks...Aleks didn't even know, until…”

His eyes cut to the TV, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “Well. Everyone knows now, don't they?”

He looked up, squaring his shoulders again. He wasn't going to be shaken anymore.

Trevor had stood up, arms crossed but not nearly as aggressive as he had been.

He cleared his throat when James, Joe at his back, made it to the couch area.

“Did you learn anything helpful, Trevor?” James crossed his arms, too. “Or did my pride get in the way?”

“No,” Trevor dropped his eyes, shoulders drooping, “I didn't.”

“So, was I telling the truth?”

“Yes.” Trevor glanced up, meeting his eyes, and his face said it more than his words did, “I'm  _sorry,_ James. I...I should have trusted you.”

James let him stew for a long few seconds before he let out an explosive sigh.

“It's fine. I dunno why I thought I'd ever be able to look cool in front of you guys, anyway.”

“You’re still cool,” Jakob said firmly, standing off to the side, his arms crossed, “No matter what they did to you.”

“That doesn’t matter,” James abruptly changed the subject, opened his hand to show the crumpled paper, still a few folds away on top of having been crushed in his palm, “This is our last task. We do this, we get his location. We’ve got two days, she said.”

“What’s the task?” Brett leaned forward in his seat, elbows on his knees, “Why’d you come back in the first place? I thought you were running with the Fake AH now.”

And he didn’t sound aggressive - he was probably too busy pitying James to yell at him and James had never thought he’d miss being yelled at by Brett before, but here he was.

“You know,” James looked at the crumpled-up bear in his hands, “I’m a lot of things, man, but...I don’t leave loyal crews behind. I forgot that and I...I, well, uh...I don’t know what the task is. I was waiting until I was back with you guys.”

Brett narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms again, “You’re  _sure_?”

“Yes,” James nodded, shifting awkwardly. “Look, I...I should have trusted you guys, too. I panicked, but I should have trusted you guys. We’re supposed to be different.”

“Yeah, well,” Brett hesitated, “I guess I should have been a little more willing to work with the Russian woman. You came back with good info, so I guess you made the right call.”

“So,  _everyone_  fucked up,” Joe said firmly, looking between James and Brett and Trevor, “And now everyone has  _apologized_. Are we done now? Do we all trust each other again? Any more secrets we need to get out? Hurt feelings to be soothed?”

Brett rolled his eyes, but he and Lindsey both made room on the couch, “Come sit the fuck down, you asshole. Before Joe guilts us into killing ourselves.”

James looked down at his bare legs, boxers and a half buttoned short sleeve flannel and nothing else.

“Okay.”

Trevor pulled a few chairs over from the desks, silently offering one to Jakob in what James could only assume was some sort of weird apology. Jakob, after a short pause of giving Trevor a suspicious look, took the chair. So did Joe and Trevor, leaving Aron sitting on the table.

Anna, surprisingly, was the one who joined him while Asher pulled the small, square table they’d been sharing closer to the group. She usually tried to stay out of the middle of the crew when they were in huddles like this; preferred the outer edges, where she was more used to being.

Her actions made sense, though, when Asher tossed her a small roll of bandages and a tub of burn gel.

“How did you -” James started to ask, but she was already glaring at him.

“You don’t think Asher and I have contact with the Fakes’ doctor? He told us as soon as you were unconscious. You haven’t changed your hand once, have you?”

“No,” James admitted, and then carefully offered it to her, “Will you help me?”

With another glare, fonder now, she took his wrist and started unwrapping. “Talk, then, while I make sure you don’t lose this. We’ll look at that third-degree when you're done,  _no arguing_.”

“Yes, ma’am,” James said meekly, wincing a little as the bandages started to peel off of his skin.

Now one-handed, he had to smooth the paper out on his leg and carefully unfold the last of it, finally revealing the task.

“The Clown, Maxim Rashkovsky, has been arrested and taken to Bolingbroke Penitentiary,” He read aloud, barely able to get the words out, “He has agreed to be a key witness in the case against Simon Wens. Rescue him and facilitate his escape to Russia.”

“ _What_?” Jakob stood up first, talking loudly over both Jakob and Aron making disagreeing noises, “No way!”

“ _Rescue him_  and  _facilitate his escape to Russia_?” Brett said incredulously, grabbing the paper so he could hold it up to the light, like there was a secret message hidden in the words. There was nothing - just the black pen ink, the barely readable cursive, the name of the man who had tortured him for two weeks. Who had tortured  _Aleks_.

And James had to  _save_  him.

He felt dizzy, suddenly, and he leaned back against the couch. Anna followed him without even really moving, somehow, but he could barely feel anything except  _sick_ , anyway. She’d slathered some numbing shit on his hand, and it was working its magic, but he kind of wished it hadn’t. It had been grounding, the pain, and now he felt like he was floating.

“We can’t do this,” Trevor shook his head, “Some other way. A different task. We’ll fucking - the pictures. We’ll find different cameras, cameras that caught the van, we’ll follow it right this time -”

“We’re doing it.” James said shortly, letting Anna unwrap his arm so she could clean it with a bottle of peroxide that Asher had brought over. His head was beginning to ache. He leaned it back on the couch, tried to breathe through it. “I brought this to you guys because I’m... _trusting_ you. To do this with me.”

“He  _hurt you_ ,” Joe gritted out, and the creaking of plastic told James that he had gripped the arms of his chair too hard, “He hurt  _Aleks_ ,”

“James is right.” Brett said, “We have to find Aleks. We’ll get this clown fucker, don’t you fucking think otherwise, Joe. But Aleks has to come first.”

“...Fine,” Joe gave in, not sounding happy about it, and he obviously was just  _saying_  fine, but James let it go. “So, what’s the plan then?”

“The plan,” James started to say, and then had to stop. His head was just...fuzzy.

“James,” Brett lifted his free arm and he felt Anna move over and start unwrapping it to change out the bandages, “I think you need to rest. You look fucking exhausted.”

“I will,” James forced his eyes open, “Once we find Aleks.”

“Look,” Brett rubbed his shoulder lightly, “Go take a nap. You’ve been traveling a lot, you’re exhausted and hurt. You need to be on your A-game. Let us plan this out.”

“But,” James looked at his arm, the gashes from glass and the blood and the peroxide being poured and give in when he realized he was so tired he was seeing double, “One condition.”

“Name it,” Brett agreed, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m the one that goes in.”

“ _James_!” Joe raised his voice again, but James was already shaking his head.

“ _I_  go in, or I’m planning this thing myself, Joe.”

“Deal,” Brett interrupted Joe before he could continue to argue, “You go in. But I’m going with you.”

“Fine.” James said back quickly, like Brett could somehow revoke his agreement. “Great.”

“Now, go lay down. We set up a mattress behind my desk. Anna?”

“Yeah, come on,” Anna finished cleaning his arm off and then stood up, “I’ll finish wrapping this in there and take a look at that burn on your leg.”

James let her help him up, all the aches and pains finally catching up with him. He could barely stand, the last of his energy just...gone. He was running on fumes.

“We’ll take care of this,” Brett called after him, like he could still feel James’ reluctance. If James could see straight, he would have stayed; but he’d sent the others away for not being on point enough to recognize it in himself. This was too important for anyone, him included, to fuck up. “You brought us the info. Let us do our jobs, now.”

James didn’t respond, but that was a response enough, and Anna shut the office door behind them again.

He collapsed into the mattress behind Brett’s desk, barely able to keep his eyes open long enough for her to finish wrapping his arm.

“Hey,” She tapped the bandage off, moving to look at his legs, “I’m glad you’re home, Nova.”

He patted her hand tiredly, “Thanks.”

And then he passed out on the mattress, one of their cow print pillows under his head.

-

He’d slept twice since Aleks had been taken, and he hadn’t felt like he’d slept at all either time.

When he woke up, it wasn’t much different. Even back with his crew, Aleks wasn’t  _safe_  and James wouldn’t be able to rest until he was.

The headache, at least, was gone, and his hand, arms, and legs weren’t in nearly as much pain as they had been. When he finally opened his eyes to look, his other hand’s knuckles had also been wrapped. Someone had left a bottle of water and a small baggie of four Advil on the floor next to him and he took them without hesitation.

He hadn’t charged either phone last night, but his sweatpants were still in a pile close by and he fished them over with his foot so he could dig around in the pockets. The iPhone was almost dead, so he plugged it into Brett’s charger, but he didn’t bother with his own phone. A little under half percent, he checked the time - Jesus, he’d slept nearly twelve hours - then just shoved it back in his pocket and pulled the sweatpants back on. He’d lost his shirt at some point before he’d gone to sleep, and it was nowhere to be found, so he managed to use the desk to haul himself up and left the office without it.

Only Lindsey was in the warehouse, sitting at her desk and talking to someone on her cell.

She smiled at him when she saw him, but didn't hang up.

“Yeah, the little car barn there. Just park it. Brett, just  _park it_ , I've got our guys watching it.”

He looked around until he found a shirt - one of Trevor’s many crew-themed jokes - and carefully pulled it on. It was soft, barely worn, against his skin, and it smelled vaguely of Trevor and Joe both. He set in Aleks’ chair, turned slowly in a circle and only stopped when he caught sight of the only picture Aleks had on his desk.

It was a picture of his girls, Mishka and Celia, and James picked it up to look at it more closely. Mishka’s doggy-grin, and the content, half-closed stare of Celia under Mishka’s head. Joe had been taking care of them, along with Ein, and James had never been particularly attached to them outside of how dearly Aleks loved them but now he missed them like a hole in the gut. He wanted to see them again, with Aleks, just to watch how excited they got. Ein loved playing with them - but James wasn't a three-animal kind of guy. He needed Aleks there, too.

He set the picture down in disgust at himself. Jesus, he was  _ridiculous._ Aleks was being tortured, James wasn't even sure he had a crew anymore because everyone had kinda talked about it but no one had said they’d  _forgiven_  anyone else, everyone was gone and James had no idea where they were, he’d soon be going to meet face to face with the man of his nightmares to  _save him_ , and James was contemplating what life would be like with three pets instead of one if he was alone.

“James,” Lindsey called, breaking him out of his thoughts, “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” James said, and it was true. As long as no one counted his rolling stomach or aching back.

“We have a plan.” Lindsey smiled, and it was just as exasperated as usual, “You wanna hear?”

“Hit me,” James leaned back in Aleks’ chair, glad to have something else to focus on.

“We got lucky,” Lindsey started with, “The Vagos just got a shipment in. A-Team, Joe and Aron went to collect the bird it flew in on. Brett and the boys went to get a prison transfer bus.”

“Okay, sure,” James went with it, “And why do we need that?”

“I,” she said proudly, “Called in a favor with the old lawyer pals and got access to the transfer list. Tomorrow, two-thirty in the afternoon. That's when we strike.”

“What, we just wheel the bus in and grab him?”

“He’ll be in the courtyard,” Lindsey went on, ignoring his incredulous tone, “You go in pretending to be a prisoner. Brett is your guard. You guys will, hopefully, get in far enough to grab him and, while Joe is providing air support in a Buzzard, you bust back to the bus and drive away to Sandy Shore and switch over to the Velum. Fly out to the ocean, you guys jump out and he’s free as a bird. It's got AI, we just program the coordinates and he sits back and goes to Russia.”

“Great,” James forced a smile, “You guys are good. It's a fucked up, horrible plan, and better than anything I could have come up with.”

“I know.” Lindsey smiled again, finally setting her phone down, “Are you sure you’ll be okay to do this? It's a lot of physical activity and shooting and your hand…”

“I won't be able to snipe,” James flexed his fucked up hand, wince at the pain of it, “But I don't need two hands to shoot. I can do it.”

“Good,” She shoot up, motioning for him to do the same, “Let's get something to eat. Brett and the boys are on their way back and we can wait for the other group.”

“I'm not really hungry, Linds,” he shook his head, his stomach still doing flips.

“Tough.” She said firmly, “You have to keep your strength up. Let's eat some cereal.”

James went and ate some cereal.

He laid on the couch after, staring up at his phone for a while. He’d opened his conversation with Aleks, and the last text he had sent to him a few days ago was somehow enough to send him spiraling. It was just a shit emoji in response to a stupid Boromir meme Aleks has sent him.

This could be his last text to Aleks.

He wanted to close his messaging app, not think about it, but he couldn't help it.

If he didn't get shot to death tomorrow, there was the very real possibility that Aleks was dead. If Aleks wasn’t dead, there was the very real possibility that James was going to get shot to death tomorrow. Prisoners didn’t wear Kevlar; kidnapped victims didn’t often make it home in this line of business.

He turned onto his side, put his face to the ruined cow print of the couch, and tried to ignore the world.

At some point, Brett, Trevor, and Jakob returned, but James was barely awake enough to mumble a greeting when Brett set on the table across from him. He was still so tired. Part of him wished that sleeping offered any form of relief, but he knew that he was too restless. He was getting just enough rest to keep functioning, but he wasn’t rested. The rest of him almost felt closer to Aleks, like if Aleks couldn’t sleep than neither could James.

It wasn’t until he heard Joe’s voice that he made himself wake, sit up and shake his head out until he could focus.

“Afternoon, Sleeping Beauty,” Brett looked up from the folder in his lap, sitting in one of the rolling chairs with his legs propped on the table. He was still wearing his boots and James found himself staring at them while he put his mental state back in order. He’d dropped his phone on the carpet in his sleep and he carefully grabbed it, checked it for cracks. There was nothing new, except for a text from Lindsey with a timetable on it.

“How’d -” James cut himself on with a yawn, “The bus go?”

“Got it,” Brett shrugged, “We’ve got a friend of ours painting it up now. Lindsey texted you the timetable.”

“I got it,” James nodded, wiggling his phone absentmindedly to show he’d received the text, “Tell me about this plane.”

“The Velum,” Brett nodded, “It’s a smuggler’s plane. We got it from the Vagos - you remember them? You did them a big favor a few months back, smoothed out their tiff with Fakehaus before Bruce blew ‘em sky high, so we called in the favor. It’s outfitted nice; high-tech, autopilot that will cruise him back to Russia at a low enough altitude that no one will pick him up until he’s already gone.”

“Awesome,” James made himself smile. The plan itself sucked, but the escape was good. His crew was good. If only they didn’t have to be good for the Clown.

“Hey,” Brett reached out, gripped his shoulder, “It’s not the best situation we’ve ever been in. But...you’re free. He doesn’t have any control over you. And, once we have Aleks back, we’re going to hunt him down and skin him alive.”

“I’d like that.” James admitted, and smiled a little more genuinely when Brett laughed.

“I know you would, you sick fuck.” Brett let his hand drop and put his feet down so he could stand up, “Now, come on. Let’s pick through this plan with a fine-tooth comb so none of us get too shot up. A-team is gonna kill us if we use anymore bandages than you already have.”

“Good idea,” James stood up with him, smoothing out the t-shirt he was wearing, “The last thing I need is more bullet holes.”

Brett chuckled, started to head toward the desks, where James could see the others sitting around a box of pizza, all silently working. Things hadn’t ground to a halt with Aleks missing, he knew that, and he had to respect that Fake Chop hadn’t fallen apart like he had. Brett and Lindsey had kept everything running, on top of searching for Aleks, so he would have something to come back to. James maybe didn’t deserve as good a crew as they’d built together, really.

Brett stopped before they left the carpet, hand on James’ wrist.

“Hey, uh,” Brett frowned, “I know I said I was sorry, but I just wanted to...look, we both said some dumb stuff. You did good, James. I should have listened.”

“I don’t need pity,” James blurted out before he could think not to.

“I’m not -”

“I don’t want you to not yell at me.” James cut him off, wanting to get it all out, “I don’t want sad looks and talking to me like I’m made of glass and whispering behind my back about how you shouldn’t let me do this or that in case it triggers me or whatever. I’m still me, nothing has changed except now you know about something that happened fucking years ago that never comes up unless my partner is kidnapped by guys who were hired specifically because they also took me.”

“James,” Brett finally interrupted, raising his voice a little along with his eyebrow, “Shut up and listen to me. I’m not apologizing because you got tortured. Nothing I say can change or fix that. I’m apologizing because I wasn’t  _wrong_  and we’re a crew. I shouldn’t have just written you off as compromised and refused to listen to what you were saying. I’ve seen you literally slit a man ass to mouth, I don’t think you’re weak, or whatever you’re thinking.”

“Well,” James shifted awkwardly, “Good. Okay. I’m, uh...I’m sorry, too. You said no and I jumped passed ‘talk it out’ and straight to ‘you can’t trust anyone but yourself’ and maybe I shouldn’t have jumped there so fast.”

“Maybe?” Brett grinned, and James found himself slowly smiling back.

“Maybe.” He repeated.

Brett pushed him, playful, and it  _hurt_  but it hurt less than if he’d been gentle, and James lifted his arms to defend himself, laughing.

“Okay, okay, boys!” Lindsey called sharply, “Knock it off and come join the pizza party! James, you’re still injured, stop roughhousing!”

“Yes, ma’am!” he and Brett both called back at once, and James finally felt settled.

He was just missing one more piece.

-

“I’m starting to have doubts,” James said, staring at himself in the mirror. He was wearing orange pants - the bottoms of a prison outfit, but they’d sent Jakob and Asher and they’d managed to snag the full outfit and then lose the shirt somewhere between the laundry place the prison outsourced to and the base so he’d been forced to wear a gray undershirt and not much else.

It didn’t offer a lot of cover.

“Believe in yourself, James,” Brett said sagely, because  _he_ ’ _d_  been given the full uniform.

“I  _believe_  that a bullet is going to kill me today,” James grumbled, but he tightened the pants he’d been given with his good hand and the very tips of the fingers of his bad hand and stepped away.

“Okay,” He cleared his throat, “I’m ready.”

“Bet you thought you’d never end up in that, huh?” Brett asked, tossing the fake handcuffs he’d bought from a novelty shop up in the air a few times and smirking at him.

“Bet you thought you’d never end up in that,” James shot back, because Brett looked like a pig and it was kinda funny.

“Shut up,” Brett lost the smirk and turned to leave, “You coming?”

“I  _said_  I was ready,” James repeated, hurrying to catch up. They left the little room they’d been getting ready in, an offshoot of the bus barn where Brett had stashed the bus yesterday. Said bus was waiting for them, gleaming in the sun with a fresh layer of paint artificially aged to match its sibling buses. Wouldn’t want to give themselves away by being too clean in a place like an LA holding facility.

James got in first, wrenching the door open and stomping inside. It was absolutely baking, sweat immediately springing to the surface of his skin. The seat was burning when he tried to sit, a thin strip of it that the sun had been slowly heating up all day, and he had to switch to the opposite side, where the sun hadn’t reached.

Brett wasn’t so lucky, forced to sit in a hot seat in the sweltering heat.

The first thing he did upon starting the engine was turn the AC on, and they both let out twin sighs of relief at the vaguely cool air that started to drift through, chasing away the stagnant feeling of being in an oven.

“This plan sucks,” James decided, and then pulled his phone out to call Jakob.

The phone rang twice before Jakob answered, sounding out of breath, “Hey,”

“Where are you?”

“Trevor’s taking care of the real bus, I just got the Buzzard. We’ll be on route to protect Joe from any police helis and provide air support in...five minutes.”

“We’re heading out now,” James said, nodding at Brett, who pressed on the gas and pulled out of the bus barn with a thumbs up, “ETA fifteen minutes.”

“Hold on, let me patch Joe in,” Jakob mumbled, and then James was put on hold. They needed to get some of this fucking comms that everyone else seemed to have, this was ridiculous.

“Hello?” Joe said, loud and confused, “Are we all on?”

“First try, too.” James sighed, cutting to the chase, “Where are you, Joe?”

“I’m about to take off,” Joe said, still too loud, “ETA to Sandy Shore ten minutes.”

“Perfect,” James rubbed his face, hoping that everything would go as smoothly as this, “Jakob, you and Trevor focus on giving us air support. Joe, be ready to program coordinates when we get them. Hopefully, this fucker knows where he’s supposed to be heading.”

“Are you  _sure_  we can’t just kill him?” Joe asked, one last time, and James found himself cracking a smile.

“No, Joe.”

“Fine,” Joe grumbled back, and it made something in James’ stomach warm.

“Focus, guys,” Jakob chimed in, “We’re barely two minutes from you, James, so we’ll wait ten and then come at the prison.”

“Look for the people shooting at us, and shoot them first.”

“You got it, bossman,” Jakob agreed, sounding as relaxed as ever.

“I’ll keep the Velum warm,” Joe said, “Be safe, guys.”

“Yeah, yeah,” James scoffed and hung up.

“Everyone in place?” Brett asked, not taking his eyes off the road.

“As in place as they can be.” James cleared his throat and shoved his phone deep in the pockets of his prison uniform, caught the handcuffs Brett tossed him easily. “You kissed your ass goodbye yet?”  
“Jokes on you,” Brett scoffed, not looking back, “I’ve been kissing my ass goodbye from the moment I met you two fucks.”

“Keep the bar high, I say,” James cracked a smile, and the rest of the ride was quiet.

It wasn’t until they reached the prison that James finally spoke again.

“Hey, Brett,” He started, mouth a little dry, “If I don’t make it -”

“Christ, James,” Brett cut him a look in the mirror, “You’ll be fine!”

“If I don’t make it, though,” James continued, “Don’t let Aleks do anything stupid.”

“Where one goes,” Brett tightened his hands on the wheel and slowed down, “The other follows. Aleks would follow you straight to hell, man. Just don’t die and it won’t be a problem. Not shut the fuck up, we’re about to get checked out. Look like a felon.”

James, not feeling at all better about what would happen if he died, put the handcuffs on his wrists and slumped in his seat.

“You’re late,” The officer grunted when Brett pulled up, “The boss isn’t happy.”

“Sorry, man,” Brett motioned behind him, at James, “He caused some trouble, had to get...patched up.”

The guard peered into the bus and James drew his arms up, tried to look as small as possible. The bandages up his arms, covered wrist to above his elbows, and his wrapped hand and knuckles were all put on display.

The guard leaned back, laughing.

“You guys sure know how to treat ‘em, huh?”

“Like they’re fragile daisies,” Brett chuckled, and James just  _knew_  he was thinking about all the times he’d yelled at his crew like only the best wardens did.

“Head on through,” The guard pressed the button, speaking over the mechanical whirring of the gate opening, “Try to treat ‘em nice.”

“Got ya’, got ya’, got ya’,” Brett tipped his hat in thanks, and then started the car again.

The adrenaline was starting to pump and, in response, his hands were steady. His fingers itched for a gun, his favorite rifle. He couldn’t even use it properly, it didn’t deserve that kind of disrespect, but he wanted it.

The bus came to another stop, though Brett parked it instead of putting it in idle.

Brett stood up and James followed suit, wincing when Brett grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and pulled him to the door.

When he turned a glare to Brett’s face, he saw a quick look of apology and then he was being shoved out of the bus. He stumbled, nearly falling over as he tripped on his feet coming off the steps, but just barely caught himself before he took a dust bath in the dirt of the prison grounds.

“Get movin’,” Brett grunted loudly, pushing him again, and James held back a wince. The muscles of his arms were probably in better shape than most of his body but  _Jesus_ , he was just a human-shaped bruise at this point.

He heard a few guards start to laugh, heard one grumble “Serves ‘em right,” and then one of them casually stuck his foot out as James was skulking past and James  _did_ fall.

He caught himself before he’d even thought about it, hands snapping out to hit the ground and brace against the dirt to avoid landing on his shins and forearms.

The handcuffs link, previously just long enough for him to not have his wrists on top of each other, snapped in half.

There was a moment of silence, the guards’ laughter dropping off, where Brett said “God fucking damn it,” and then lifted his gun and shot two of the guards.

James rolled over hard, barely missing getting gunned down by the guard who had tripped him. He twisted around, kicking his legs into the guards and grabbing the gun when he stumbled, using his grip on the muzzle to aim it away from his head when another shot went off. His ears rung, but just barely. He was used to being so close to the blast, had been closer than this, and the guard had obviously thought the sound would at least make him pause. James kicked the man in the sternum as hard as he could while he was unprepared, shoving him away from James with the strength of his legs, and then switched his grip on the gun and pointed it at him.

The guard had barely opened his mouth to - beg, maybe, or yell for help - when James shot him. It was a merciful death, for the fucker that had blown their whole op early. He couldn’t even hear the Buzzard yet.

He pushed off the ground as fast as he could, aiming and shooting at a guard over Brett’s shoulder before Brett had even noticed the threat.

Brett nodded at him, and then they were heading for the yard. James cut off just before entering, spotting a ladder and making a beeline for it.

“Nova!” Brett snapped his way, but he just motioned for the yard.

“Find him!” He yelled back, and then started climbing. It was hard, mostly one-handed since his injured hand was holding the gun, but he had done this shit before and for a lot less of an important mission.

He heard a few bullets bounce off the ladder and the metal around him but just hoped that he’d make it. He did, rolling onto the catwalk and shooting down the guard that had been potshotting him. He knew he’d hit, didn’t bother checking - no time. He got up, started running.

He took a left, headed for the yard, and then took another left, stopping just enough to aim and take out a crouching guard who looked like he’d been gearing up to attack Brett on the ground. He was having trouble, but not as much trouble as he’d feared he would. His wrapped hand hurt, to be sure, but it was a pain he could ignore when he flexed it as long as he didn’t rest the weight of the gun on his palm.

He reached the yard around the same time as Brett, just a little behind, and crouched down to start taking potshots at running guards. He took two down before he had to duck out of the way with a shout, another bullet missing him by milliseconds.

His heart pounding, mouth dry, hands steady, he shot down a third guard. It was while he was reloading that his luck ran out. He knew he’d been hit before he felt it, sort of like a phantom pain, before a burning  _agony_  encased his upper arm. The shot knocked him over and he fell onto his back with a muffled shout, staring up at the blue sky and recalibrating the new pain. Honestly, once the shock of it had cleared away, it wasn’t any worse than the burns on his legs and he glanced at it long enough to confirm that it was barely a glimpse before he stumbled onto his knees and leaned around the corner to shoot at the sniper that had been nearly braining him this whole time. He heard a shout of pain, and then watched the sniper plummet off the building and hit the dusty ground with a dull thud.

He went back to picking off incoming cops, managing two head shots and two body shots that had them down for the count and then he jolted up and took a hard right on the catwalk and then a hard left so he could get to the look-out tower where the sniper had been stationed. He looked around through the windows, took a quick peek through the door, but it was empty so he turned back around and abandoned the catwalks for a stairwell down to the yard. He still had two flights to go when he saw Brett race under him and take cover with a road barricade, their target - the Clown, Rashkovsky - crouching down with his arms over his head for cover at a concrete wall that James couldn’t understand the purpose of but didn’t argue against.

Without thinking, he jumped over the rails, hanging on just long enough to ruin his momentum and then dropping into a roll that had his ankles and knees  _screaming_  but had cut a good twenty seconds off his decline, saving him from a full round of bullets into where he’d been standing.

He took a shot at the guard gunning for him, but didn’t stick around long enough to see if he’d hit.  

He headed for the concrete wall where the Clown was crouching, diving into the dirt to avoid a few more flying bullets and fucking action rolling to a stop a foot away.

“I thought they were sending professionals!” The Clown snapped at him, not even looking at James, “I collaborate and nearly get a shiv for the please. Just give me a gun -”

He turned, and James was frozen in place, couldn’t stop staring at him. This was the face of the Clown, what that mask had been hiding. He was bald; that was the first thing James noticed. He wore glasses, but one lens was cracked and blood had, at one point, splattered across his face in a haphazard pattern. He had bruises, a black eye and a bruised up nose - presumably from when Aleks had got in his hits a few days ago.

This was the face of the man that had tortured him, had tortured  _Aleks_ , and enjoyed it.

“Nova,” The Clown said, his scowl slowly transforming into a smile, “They sent  _you_  to save me?”

James didn’t answer. His tongue wouldn’t work.

“Oh,” The Clown reached out, fingers brushing his hair, “My, is it pretty…”

James slapped his hand away with enough venom that they both flinched, reeling back. His throat closed up and then opened all at once and he was simultaneously choking and drowning in air all at once.

“Don’t touch me,” He snarled, loud enough that Brett looked back at them, turning his gun away from the guards and to the Clown.

The Clown put his hands up, laughing that  _laugh_ , and it sent shivers up James’ spine.

“Oh, we’re back to that attitude. I thought I’d beaten that out of you.”

James shook his head at Brett, who nodded slowly and then went back to picking off guards, “If you want to get out of this alive, you’d better shut the fuck up and run to Hundar. If you’re near me in the next five seconds, I’m going to beat you to death with my gun.”

And maybe the Clown could read that James wasn’t lying in the slightest because he looked both ways and then ran to crouch behind the barricade with Brett while James stayed behind at the wall.

He collapsed against it for a moment, his whole body starting to shake. He needed to get control of himself. He’d told Lindsey that he would be able to handle this. He  _would_  be able to handle this.

He took a deep, careful breath. Aleks needed him. He’d do this, for Aleks. And then he was going to kick Aleks’ ass so hard he wouldn’t know what it was like to sit down without pain for the rest of his life.

Brett took down two more guards while James was moving from the wall to the barricade, and Brett briefly lifted his head to look around before he leaned behind the Clown to talk to James.

“I think we cleared this area out as best we can right now. Let’s advance.”

“Take lead,” James agreed, checking his gun and then discarding it for the pistol of a nearby body.

“Keep your eyes peeled,” Brett warned, standing up slowly and then running to a metal shack a few yards away.

“So, this is Aleks’ crew,” the Clown spoke up once Brett was in position, and James didn’t want to look at him, see the way  _he_  was looking at James. “I’m almost jealous. I’ve thought about you a lot, Nova. Did you see our videos? Aleks was nice, but he’s no you.”

“Shut,” James gritted out, standing up and grabbing him by the shirt to drag him after, “Your  _fucking_  mouth, if you want to get out of this alive.”

“Ah, but that’s not what I heard,” the Clown followed close, on his heels, hot breathe on James’ neck, as they passed the metal shack and reached the wall of a building. Brett went left and James had planned to go right - but he was suddenly pinned.

The Clown shoved him against the rough surface of the building, pressed against his back, hands on James’ wrists and scraping his palms against the concrete of the wall.

James was suddenly nineteen again, terrified and alone and in so much pain, he just wanted it to  _stop_. The Clown pressed his face to his shoulder - James was taller than him now - and, when he spoke, James could feel his chest rumble, felt the way he inhaled James’ scent and moaned softly against his skin.

“I heard you needed me. We missed you, Nova. We talk about you all the time, listen to your tapes and remember. What a good few weeks together - you cried so pretty for my knife. I want to hear you scream again.”

He reacted on instinct. One moment, he was against the wall - the next, he brought his head back in a sharp  _crack_  that had the Clown reeling away. He turned, bringing his arm around hard, smashed the Clown across the face with his fist and - chest heaving, skin crawling, eyes stinging - he stared him down as he stumbled onto his ass in the dust.

“Don’t,” he hissed out, “ _Touch_  me. I’m  _not_  a weak kid, anymore. I could kill you right now.”

“But you won’t, will you?” The Clown sneered back, spitting out a wad of dirt and slowly standing up, “Because you  _need me_  to find Aleksandr.”

“You really wanna figure out if Aleks means more to me than fucking murdering you right here?” James asked, cocking the pistol and not breaking eye contact. He knew the answer, but the Clown didn’t.

“You wouldn’t,” The Clown wiped at the blood trickling from his nose, standing up slowly, his eyes trained on James’ gun, “Fuckin’  _bitch_. I forgot how much I liked that.”

“Fuck you,” James aimed and fired - the guard behind the Clown went down, but the Clown yelped loudly and cowered, and that made James smirk.

“You’re disgusting and, more than that, you’re  _weak_ ,” James pressed his back to the wall, checked to the right and then finally turned the corner enough to make out some buses.

“Talk dirty to me, baby,” The Clown groaned, “I wanna hear it all so I can remember what it was like to make you beg and cry,”

“Say something like that again,” Brett said from behind them, emerging from the other side of the building, “And I’ll fucking break your teeth, you creepy pinhead. There’s an armored car on the other side of this building, looks like LAPD. Let’s get out of here.”

James, refusing to look at the Clown, nodded. They followed the main road, James taking down another guard as they ran under the catwalk, their steps fast. There was still no sign of Trevor and Jakob, but James didn’t see any signs of police helis either, and that was enough to prove that they were around - somewhere in the sky. James didn’t have to look around for specks in the sky.

Brett went ahead of them again, but the Clown didn’t try to start anything; just followed James, looking over his shoulder like he thought there was a bigger threat than James behind him. James resisted the urge to shoot him between his eyes.

There were two gunshots, echoing and loud, from ahead of them and James froze, lifting his gun up to aim, and then an armored vehicle reversed into view. Brett stared at him through the window of the driver’s seat, patting the door a few times.

“Get in,” He demanded, and James went for the passenger door without question.

“Back!” He snapped at the Clown when he went to follow and, scowling, the Clown did as told and disappeared behind the vehicle.

There was a small window between the front seat and the boxy back of the vehicle and James used it to confirm that the Clown was safely inside before he buckled his seatbelt and turned back to Brett.

“Step on it, motherfucker.”

Brett, grinning sharply, stepped on it.

He took a dramatic turn out of the prison, busting through the wire of the front gate and through the small squad of police cars stationed in the parking lot. James heard a lot of yelling, mostly from officers but also from the box back of the vehicle as the Clown was thrown around.

Brett skidded onto the road leading out of the prison, where police cars were just pulling up to set up a road block - but they were too late, and no block could stop this vehicle. Brett nearly crashed into a tree to avoid one car, and then had to jerk the wheel hard to just barely scrape against a rocky outcropping to avoid another.

“Brett!” James couldn’t help but yelp, grabbing at the handle above the door and his seatbelt both, “Car!”  
“Let’s see what this baby can take,” Brett yelled back, and then rammed head first into a police car. The police car fucking  _flipped_ , rolled over the top of the armored vehicle and landed in a crushed, smoking mess behind them as they sped on.

“Jesus  _Christ_!” James held on for dear life, staring wide eyed at the dirt road in front of them - thankfully police car free. They were all behind them, still mobilizing - and the crushed remains of the flipped car would give them an even bigger advantage.

Sandy Shore was barely a two minute drive at the speed Brett was going, and they drifted onto the dirt runway with the sound of sirens behind them but no cars in view quite yet.

“You’re trying to kill me!” he heard from the back, and couldn’t help but smile. If only.

The Velum was sitting in the middle of the runway when Brett finally came to a hard stop. James slammed a fist twice against the wall between he and the Clown and yelled out, “Our stop!” before he shoved his door open, unbuckled his belt, and started running for the Velum.

He could see Joe in the pilot’s window, checking controls, headphones over his ears as he spoke to, presumably, Lindsey.

He made it to the Velum first and turned to the road, trying to spot the cop cars in the distance. Far off, he finally found the Buzzard - in an aerial battle with a number of police helis. One blew up in the sky, a huge fireball that James couldn’t hear but could plainly see. Those were his boys. He’d have to get them ice cream or something, later.

He turned his attention back to Brett and the Clown. The Clown had climbed onto the wing and pulled the door to the passenger side open while Brett had pulled the side door down so he and James could climb into the back. James followed him up the stairs, yanking it closed behind him.

“Go, go, go!” he heard Brett shouting to Joe through the intercom, and he collapsed into a seat and pulled his seatbelt on just in time.

He felt it when the Velum started to take off, a slow glide that turned fast and faster, until they were speeding down the dirt runway. When the plane started to lift, James gripped the armrests tight and closed his eyes against the nausea.

Finally, after what could have been an eternity, he felt the Velum stabilize.

“Altitude proper, speed proper, police not on our tail. All systems are go,” he heard Joe say, and felt his body go limp.

They’d done it.

He couldn’t help but laugh. Part of him  _hated_  that they’d succeeded. But the rest of him...they’d done it. Aleks was as good as  _theirs_. They just had to make it to the ocean.

“Good job, crew,” another voice, the Clown, broke into his inner celebration - dowsing it all in cold water. The relief in his gut soured.

Brett pressed the button on the table that would connect his voice to the cockpit, “Don’t let him touch anything. That includes the intercom.”

“I’m trying,” Joe said back, sounding strained, “But I need both hands to fly until he inputs his coordinates.”

“You’re lucky I know these.” the Clown said conversationally, “Otherwise, you’d be flying me to Russia yourselves.”

“This is for emergency use and updates,” Brett said sharply, “Stop cluttering the air.”

“Oh, don’t be a spoilsport,” The Clown scoffed, “This is my last chance to talk to Nova! I’ll never see him again after this - or, at least, not for a long time. Kickin’ it in Russia, I’ll be.”

James dug his nails into the armrests and stared at his feet. He wasn’t going to respond to any of it.

“Oh, Luke would be so jealous, Nova,” The Clown continued on, “Poor man still thinks I was  _taken_ , as if  _I_  would be arrested without my consent. He’d be  _steaming_  if he knew I’d got to touch that hair of yours again. He kept it with him for years, but we lost it to a daring escape in Austria.”

No one said anything back. James didn’t want to look at Brett.

“Me?” The Clown sighed, “I wish I could see your face. You had such a cute face. I like it now, of course, but back then...So young, so emotional. Intimate and passionate, every second. Now, Aleks, that one is a tough cookie. Breaking him would be fun, of course, and I could have but Luke is so soft. You get  _one_  e-mail that says not to hurt the product and Luke won’t even appreciate even a little bit of a bruise. He’s changed, my Luke. I miss back in the old days, where we just had to tie pretty young bits like you to a chair and hurt ‘em ‘til they screamed.”

“ _Enough_ ,” Brett said into the intercom with such venom that the line went dead for a good five minutes.

James was just beginning to relax again, when it started back up.

“I wonder if he’s let you hear him beg yet,”

“Mother of  _Christ_ ,” Brett slammed his fist onto the table. James didn’t react. He just stared at the ground. Just make it to the ocean. For Aleks. Just make it to the ocean. For Aleks.

“He’s a treat,” the Clown said, and James could hear how much he was enjoying it, humiliating him like this, “He’ll do a lot, if you just don’t feed him for a few days. Begged so nice, ate right out of the palm of my hand. Should have made him do a lot more than I did, now that I think about it. He doesn’t like being pinched, just to spread the knowledge.”

His face burning, James finally closed his eyes. All he saw behind his lids was the Clown mask. He opened them again, went back to staring.

“Now, Aleks. What a  _bitch_. I see why you two get on together. Or, get off together?” the Clown laughed - only to transition into a loud scream when the Velum suddenly veered to a hard left. When James looked out of the window, he finally saw the start of blue. Not quite far enough, yet, but  _so close_.

“Under your chair,” Brett said tightly, and James reached under without looking at him. It was a parachute, and he unstrapped his seatbelt to put it on and clip everything into its proper place.

“Jump in ten,” Joe finally spoke up again, and he sounded angrier than James had ever heard him.

“Nine,” He started to count down.

“He screams pretty,” the Clown broke in, over Joe’s “Seven.”

“Not as pretty as you, but not many people do.” he said, and Joe continued with his count down as if he wasn’t even talking with a firm, “Six.”

“Remember how you cried when -” “Five.” “- Luke waterboarded you?”

“Four,”

“I watch that one a lot,” The Clown groaned again, sickeningly pleased with himself, “Thanks for saving me, Nova.”

“Three.”

“I hope we see each other again.”

“Two.”

“You won’t get away next time, if we do.”

“One.”

James shoved the door open and fell out of the plane in a tumble.

For a hot second, he was so focused on getting  _away_  that he didn’t care if he canonball’ed to his death in the ocean. Maybe it would make him feel clean. He doubted he’d ever feel clean again, not even if he grated all of his skin off, but maybe it was worth a shot.

“James!” He heard, just vaguely, and he looked over - squinting his eyes hard - to see Brett. Brett made a miming motion of pulling his shoot and then pointed at James before pulling his own. James, still falling improperly, finally made himself focus, straightened out and looked down to figure out where he was. He was a lot closer to the ocean than he’d thought he was, and he pulled his shoot almost too late. It was a sudden change - a great jerk of his whole body, centered mostly on his chest, as the ‘chute opened and stopped him mid-fall. Joe and Brett were both much higher than he was, floating down and possibly yelling something at him, but he couldn’t hear them and didn’t care to. He knew where he was headed, the little alcove surrounded by high rocks, where the Buzzard  _and_  a black SUV were waiting.

The SUV belonged to Asher, and James didn’t know why he and Anna were at the meet-up, but he didn’t question it.

He was the first to hit the water, detaching his ‘chute a few feet off the ground. He landed and stumbled in the freezing ocean, landing on his hands and knees. Pebbles and shells bit into his palms, still raw from scraping against the concrete of the prison building, and the water soaked his bandages, soaked his pants, soaked his shoes.

When he stumbled up, he didn’t even have to look at his phone to know that it had been submerged. Hopefully the ‘water-resistance’ it had bragged about when he bought it was worth the extra money the fuckin’ store had demanded from him.

Half his crew was on the beach, waiting for him.

He didn’t even have to ask. Anna was already holding the iPhone out to him before he’d even made it out of the water.

He took it, after drying his hands off on what little bits of his clothes hadn’t been soaked through, and hit redial, pressed it to his ear.

As usual, the call almost rung out before someone answered.

“You have succeeded?”

“He’s on a fucking plane to fucking Russia,” he snapped back, and maybe his voice was shaking but he didn’t care, “Now  _tell me where he is_.”

“Rashkovsky should have given address.”

“What?” James felt his knees go weak, just a little, “He didn’t give me anything.”

She cursed, something in Russian, and his heart was starting to beat unevenly. He turned, looked at the ocean, where Joe and Brett were landing, now.

Brett landed normally, detaching and then hoofing it through the sand and shells - but Joe, after detaching, raised one arm as high as he could get it and landed face-first in the surf, letting himself be washed to shore so he could avoid getting his arm wet. When James looked closer, he saw a folded animal in his hand, a little damp but still intact.

“He gave it to Joe,” James said, and the relief in his voice must have been  _something_ , because the others turned to look at him. “He gave it to Joe. This is it?”

“The address,” She confirmed, “Confirmed by my people. He is there.”

“He’s there,” James said quietly, and hung up. “Joe.”

“Here,” Joe coughed, choking up water, his hair plastered to his face, “He gave this to me before I jumped,”

James, handing the iPhone off to  _someone_ , took it carefully. Palm sized, folded messily but still in a recognizable shape, was a shark.

He unfolded it slow, feeling his stomach drop and then roll hard in his gut.

There was an address. He recognized it. It was outside of the city, close to the ocean but not so close that Aleks would have been able to feel it in the air to tell him when they were on the phone.

Aleks was only three hours away, this whole time.

“We need to go,” He turned toward the SUV, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

He flinched, he couldn’t help it, but it was only Anna, and she smiled understandingly.

“Wait,”

“No,” James shook his head, “We go  _now_ ,”

“We  _will_ ,” Anna pulled a screen out of her pocket, not the iPhone, but a small tablet, “But, first, we have some unfinished business.”

“It can wait, Anna -”

“Maybe,” She handed him the tablet after unlocking it, “But I don’t want him around anymore.”

He frowned, looked down, and had to double-take.

It was a live feed. A live feed of  _the Clown_.

He looked up from the screen to the speck in the sky that was the Velum.

“What…?”

“Say whatever you want to say, just press this first,” she pointed at a button, “And then...press  _this_  button,” she pointed to a bigger one in the corner, red, “Type out  _Nova_  into the bar that shows up and…”

She didn’t have to make the sound. The hand motions were enough.

“You guys,” He said, and he was...honestly, too choked up, “You shouldn’t have.”

“No one touches my crew,” Anna said lightly, but there was danger in her eyes.

James pressed the green button and there must have been some sort of indicator, because the Clown looked directly at the counter. Confused, at first, and then peering closer.

“Nova,” He said lightly, as if he could mask his feelings, “What a surprise.”

“You said you hoped we’d see each other again.” James said, and he smiled, “I should have told you I hoped we would to.”

“Hm,” the Clown hummed, but didn’t say anything back.

“Oh?” James cocked his head, “Where are your big words, man? You’re scared, now, huh? I’ve got the address. What do I need you for?”

“You’re too far away to blow me out,” the Clown smirked, “Face it, Nova. I’m the one that got away.”

James didn’t stop smiling. He pressed the red button, slowly typed out  _N-O-V-A_.

“No one gets away from Fake Chop. Bye,  _Maxim_.”  

“Nova -” the Clown started to say, and James hit enter.

“Exactly.” James said lightly, and there was a brief pause before a burst of bright fire and a vague explosion reached his ears. He watched the Velum disappear into a ball of fire, and plummet into the ocean. The live feed went dead. The last thing he saw was the Clown’s terrified face - and it was honestly one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. Whatever fuckers said that revenge wasn’t sweet were liars.

“And  _that_ ,” Anna took the tablet back, “Is why we  _bought_  the Velum instead of just renting it out.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” James said, and the bravado was gone - all that was left was the shaking voice.

“Like you said,” she squeezed his shoulder, “No one gets away from Fake Chop.”

He found himself smiling, small and genuine, and he didn’t know how to respond but she didn’t look like she expected a response.

He turned to face the rest of his crew; Lindsey and Aron were standing by the SUV, both watching him for more orders - they must have tagged along with the A-team. Jakob and Trevor and Joe were still watching the spot in the sky where the Velum had gone down, Asher close behind Anna but watching the road leading to the alcove. Brett was still standing in the shallows, and he met James’ eyes when he looked at him.

“What now?” Brett asked, finally moving to join them. He didn’t flinch away from James’ eyes, didn’t look as if he’d just spent the last fifteen minutes listening to the Clown imply  _things_  about James that James didn’t want to confirm but didn’t want to lie about either. He didn’t look away from James’ gaze, didn’t look at him with pity.

“Now,” James found himself looking at all of them, his heart in his throat, “We get our guy back.”

“The Buzzard only fits four,” Trevor spoke up, “The rest of us will have to follow behind in the SUV.”

“Brett,” James looked at him, fists clenching, “What do you think?”

“It could be a trap,” Brett said, and James’ heart sunk, “But...Fuck it. James, me, Joe, Trevor go in the Buzzard. Linds, Anna, Aron, Jakob, Asher - you guys follow in the SUV. Let’s get our guy back.”

He and James exchanged a look - understanding. It was the closest he’d ever felt to Brett, in that moment; standing on a beat, cold and wet, the scent of an explosion slowly drifting through their crew on the wind, a crumpled up paper with an address on it that had once been a shark.

And then the moment was broken, and James was turning around and heading for the Buzzard. All the aches and pains of his body, how tired he was, how sick he felt, even the sluggishly bleeding wound on his arm - none of it  _mattered_.

He was coming for Aleks, and he wouldn’t stop until the whole goddamn city was razed to the ground and Aleks was with him again, or he was dead.


	5. The Shark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AS ALWAYS: thank u to [kenn](http://allrighthello.tumblr.com/), [tay](http://nealinator.tumblr.com/), and [phoenix](http://amanduh-hess.tumblr.com/)!!!!!!!
> 
> im SO SORRY ITS LATE it was a busy weekend and i spent most of it writing this on my phone
> 
> as ALWAYS PLS GO SHOW [phoenix](http://amanduh-hess.tumblr.com/) some love for his AMAZING gifs!!!!!!!

The first time James met Aleks, he was just _Sly’s partner_ , because James hadn't wanted him around and he hadn't wanted to even learn his codename.

He’d come into the meeting room with Sly so Jordan could introduce him to everyone, and he’d been wearing some stupid-ass Optimus Prime mask and James had _hated it_ but he’d bitten his tongue. He’d promised Jordan he wouldn't say anything, mostly because Jordan had bribed him with some new guns. The wounds from the others leaving were still fresh, though, even two years later, was the problem. James hadn't _wanted_ to invite Sly’s partner into the fold, but Sly had given them an ultimatum that the others hadn't been able to refuse, even if James wasn’t happy about it.

So, there he was, Optimus Prime mask in place, arms crossed and shoulders hunched. _This_ was the heartless silvertongue Sly had talked up so much.

“This is Immortal,” Jordan had introduced, “Sly’s partner. He’ll be with us, now.”

Sly, standing next to Immortal, had nudged him hard enough that Immortal had actually stumbled, and then reluctantly removed the helmet.

Pale, was the first thing James had noticed. Pale, with long dark hair that covered his eyes, a guarded expression, a thin-lipped frown.

“Hi, class,” He’d said, his voice a little higher than expected, thick with an accent James took a second to place as Russian, “I'm Immortal.”

Sly’s shoulders had moved in a big, silent sigh, but he didn't say anything.

James hadn’t smiled, but he was _kind of_ amused. Not that he would show it. Seamus was the only one to say something back, and it was a mumbled, “Hi, Immortal.”

James didn’t introduce himself until the end of the meeting, when Jordan caught his eye and glared at him. _Make an effort_ , his face said, and James didn’t fucking _want_ to make an effort, but he didn’t want to deal with Jordan ripping him a new one later, either.

So, while the others were filing out after the meeting had ended, James approached the front of the room, where Sly and Immortal were standing together.

“Hey, Sly,” he showed his palm in greeting, kind of a wave, forcing a wide smile, “Nice friend.”

“Thanks,” Sly stood up with a friendly smile of his own, “Immortal, this is Nova - he’s kind of a big shot in the Hub. Nova, this is my partner in crime,” Sly motioned and Immortal stood up. He was shorter than James and James had about two seconds to be kinda smug about that before Immortal brushed the hair out of his face to meet his eyes and James was struck dumb.

He had brown eyes, just as guarded and closed off as his expression, but they made James’ face go a little warm.

“Hi,” he said instead of his usual animated greeting, trying to not be a fucking idiot, “Welcome to the Hub.”

“Thank you,” Immortal nodded, looking a little less defensive, the accent was gone.

James nodded back without questioning it, and then left. He tried not to feel like he’d been chased out of his own meeting room.

Nick was waiting for him, eyebrow raised.

“Shut up,” he snapped, before Nick said anything.

Nick didn’t say anything back, just followed James as he stormed out of the house.

He didn’t see Immortal again except for in passing for a few weeks, and it may have been because he was avoiding him but James wouldn’t admit that under threat of death.

When he did see him again, it was a surprise. He’d been laughing at a joke Nick had made but, when he saw Sly and Immortal coming, he nearly choked. Immortal wasn’t wearing his helmet. As far as James knew, he only wore it when they were on missions and there was a chance his face would be exposed. James hadn’t gone on missions with him and hadn’t seen it himself, though - just knew that Immortal had done some cleanup for missions that James had left a little messy.

“What are they doing here?” He dropped his voice, couldn’t tear his eyes away. Sly didn’t look their way as he walked into Jordan’s office, but Immortal did. Their eyes met, for just a second, and Immortal smiled - just a little, a brief twitch of his lips - and James felt his heart _stutter_. Jesus Christ. He hadn’t been able to get his face out of his mind for the last few weeks and the thoughts were finally starting to fade and now - _this_. Fuck.

“Jordan has a mission for them,” Seamus cut in, not looking up from his phone, “Surprised you didn’t hear about it,”

“Yeah,” James crossed his arms, frowning, “Me, too.”

He was still kind of skulking, thinking about it, when Dan poked his head out of Jordan’s office and looked around until he found James.

“Yo, Nova!” He called, waving a hand, “We got a thing for you!”

“Great,” James stood up from the spinny chair after pushing it out of the circle they’d congregated into, rubbing his palms on his pants.

“Try to keep your tongue in your head,” Seamus commented, still not looking up from his phone, and James turned a glare on him, only for Nick to be the real Judas while his back was turned.

“With Immortal in the room? Doubtful.”

“Shut the fuck up,” James shot them all the bird; Seamus, Nick, and Ze all laughed at him but he took it good humor. If the situation was reversed, he’d have been ribbing them, too.

Dan smiled at him when he finally made it over, getting out of the way so James could saunter in and shut the door behind him.

“Hey, Nova,” Jordan looked up from a pile of paperwork in his hands, looking a little stressed. “I got a favor to ask.”

“Maybe I’ll help you out,” James collapsed into the chair on the other side of his desk, kicking his feet on the desk and refusing to let his eyes go to Immortal, “What do you need?”

“Immortal and I are going to pick up some payment from the Zomboids.” He explained, “He’s gonna take it back to his apartment, can you pick it up tomorrow night?”

He didn’t answer for a second, staring Jordan down. Just to make sure that this wasn’t some fucked up attempt at matchmaking. Jordan sighed, but he let James look until he was appeased.

“Yeah, sure,” He finally glanced over at Sly and Immortal. Immortal looked back, for just a second, before dropping his eyes.

His heart stuttered again and James forced his eyes back to Jordan, who had raised an eyebrow at him.

“Thanks,” Jordan said, and James knew his _I’m watching you_ tone.

“Yeah, no problem,” James stood up, “Can I leave now?”

“Yeah, that was all,” Jordan looked back down at the paperwork and James left. He didn’t let himself look at Immortal before going.

He spent the rest of the day thinking about it. Jordan had texted him the address an hour after he’d left his office, and James looked at it more than he really needed to. It was just...he couldn’t get the smile out of his thoughts.

“Smitten,” Nick smirked, “Our resident psychopath, _smitten_.”

“I’m _not_ ,” James said fiercely, “He looks like a fucking rat.”

“You like rats,” Nick shrugged, and James gave up. There would be no arguing with Nick, not after he’d made up his mind to tease James relentlessly.

He did make himself actually _work_ , though, and that distracted him for the night and into most of the next day.

He made it to the apartment - a small, shabby place on the bad side of town that probably only had one appealing point, that being that it was cheap - nearly an hour ahead of schedule. He set in his car, refusing to let himself go up before the right time.

Ten minutes early, he lost the fight with himself and got out.

He checked his phone a few times once he’d climbed the stairs to the proper floor and then the proper door, just to make sure he’d found the right one, but no one responded when he tapped.

Doors like these, they weren’t exactly secure. He lifted the door by the knob, twisted the handle, and pushed sharply in the right place and it popped open easily.

“- your shit together, Immortal, Nova could be here any minute,” was the first thing he heard when he stepped into the apartment, straight into a small kitchen with some dishes piling up in the sink and a small pile of clothes on the table.

 _Ah_ , he thought, something settling. So, it was like that.

He followed where the voice had come from - there wasn’t much room to get lost. It was a straight shot from the kitchen into the hallway that he was sure lead to the bedroom and bathroom.

He found them in the bedroom, scurrying around.

He watched them for a few seconds, Sly pulling shit out of his drawers, Immortal barely visible under the bed.

“Speaking of any minute,” he spoke up when he had had his fill of smug satisfaction, leaning against the door jam. He controlled himself, didn’t immediately go off. Really, he should be _thanking_ them. He could finally prove that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Immortal because he thought he was anything other than a rat.

“Nova!” Sly whirled around, and he saw Immortal try to pop up and slam his head into the bottom of his bed. “Hey! You’re...early.”

“Luckily for me,” James nodded, going for a lax tone. They wouldn’t be getting away. He could see the fear Sly was trying to hide, the way Immortal wouldn’t even turn to look at him. He knew he was kind of a ghost story to the Hub. Of course, they were all friends, he would die for any of them, but he had a reputation as Jordan's attack dog. Part of him was happy, of course, but another part felt...cheated, almost. He’d kind of expected more from Sly, if not Immortal. “You two look like you’re ready to head out! Goin’ someplace cool?”

“Nope,” Sly said, popping his ‘p’ loudly, “Just getting our emergency bags ready in case we have to split. Normal, every-day activities, you know?”

“Sounds fun!” James laughed, still more amused than angry - but the annoyance was starting to build. “But, before you guys split, I’ve just got a quick question.”

“Hit me with it, Nova. Ask away,” Sly set down, trying to appear casual.

“Where’s that fifty thou I was picking up, again?” James asked, going for something careless just to watch the panic dilate Sly’s pupils. They didn’t have it. All of them knew that they didn’t have it. Where it was, exactly, was still up in the air.

“Um,” Sly stuttered and James smiled. He’d won, then.

“It’s my fault,” Immortal broke in after a short pause of silence.

James turned away from Sly, looked at Immortal, and the smile dropped off of his face because Immortal looked like a truck had run him over, only the truck had a lot of feet.

James promptly lost every semblance of _chill_ he’d ever possessed and, honestly, Aleks never really let him get it back.

-

“We don’t have a plan,” Brett said over his shoulder, but he was mostly focused on straightening out the Buzzard. Something had been damaged while Trevor and Jakob had been fighting off air support for the prison and the max speed was not nearly as high as it should have been. Still, Brett had eyeballed the general area that Google had given the address and assured James they would be there in a little over an hour. Trevor was a better pilot, but Brett knew the whole state by heart, and James trusted him.

“Go in and kill everyone,” James responded, watching Joe rewrapping his hand. The burns looked disgusting, blisters both popped and not popped, yellowed skin and a gross, watery pus that Joe was wiping away carefully with a sanitary wipe they’d found in the first aid kit on board. He’d landed on his hands when he’d been tripped, and the Clown had forced him to scrape his palms against the wall when he’d pinned him - and the thought of that still made James shiver, even _knowing_ so intimately that the Clown was dead now - and it wasn’t looking great, even protected by the bandages like it had been.

“Good broad goal,” Brett sighed, “But not very helpful in the short and narrow.”

“We’ll think of something,” Trevor spoke up, “We do better when we’re thinking on the fly.”

“They worked alone,” James winced as Joe pulled the wrappings of his hand tight before taping it off, “It’s probably just the Lurkster, maybe a few mercs. There were only two when I got out.”

“How did you get out?” Trevor asked, and then stopped when Joe shot him a look over James’ shoulder, hands stilling from unwrapping the wet bandages around James’ arms. The salt water hadn’t hurt, at first, but the longer he let it soak into his skin, the more it was beginning to burn and sting.

James, refusing to let this be a big deal, didn’t even look at Trevor while he answered.

“They left a knife in the room with me one night and I loosened the ropes around my legs enough to slip out, broke the chair against the wall and used the knife to pick the lock.”

“You ran into guards, though?” Trevor hesitated, “Did you…?”

“I beat one to death with the chair leg, and I stabbed the other one in the head. I dunno if he died, but the first one wasn’t gonna live long with his brains all over the cement.”

“Ah,” Trevor said, and gagged. They didn’t send Trevor in the field out much - his kills were always distance or explosions. Aleks hadn’t wanted his hands bloody until he was older.

“You asked,” James shrugged, starting to unwrap his own arm because Joe was still frozen in place.

“Sorry,” Trevor said, sounding more like he was saying it out of instinct than anything. It made James’ mouth twitch up; Trevor didn’t do regret or feeling bad, not over polite faux pas - especially not polite faux pas in regards to his crew.

“It’s fine,” James dropped the ruin bandages to the floor of the heli and Joe finally shook his head as if dispelling thoughts and got back to helping him, “It’s too late to hide it.”

“Cool,” Trevor said, sounding more like himself, “So they’ll probably have a few mercs - I’d guess more than two. You know, cause...you got out.”

“It’s a good conclusion,” Brett jerked the controls to right the Buzzard when it started to lean too far to the left, “Anyone bring any guns?”

“I did,” Trevor pulled a deagle out of his jacket, holding it up for all of them to see, “But just the one.”

“I packed Aleks’ knives in here,” Joe looked around for a second, still not even halfway up James’ arm. There was a reason James didn’t often go to him for medical help. He took the bandage roll from Joe so Joe could get on the floor of the helicopter and dig around under the seats for Aleks’ knife roll bag.

“None of us can really use those,” Brett glanced over his shoulder, “But they’ll be helpful to have.”

“Maybe they’ll make Aleks feel better,” Joe shrugged, and James finished off his arm by tucking the bandage underneath itself and then gently took the knife roll from Joe.

“I’m sure he will,” He swallowed hard and carefully opened the knife room to look inside. There were five of varying sizes, all beautiful and well cared for. Aleks polished and sharpened them every week, even though he rarely used them.

“Maybe you can use them?” Joe offered, and James nodded without saying anything. If nothing else, he was going to use one to slit the Lurkster’s throat.

-

Aleks had described it as a house, when he’d called James, but it seemed to be more of a converted office building in front of a field of warehouses. From so high up, James could easily see the ocean, and he stared at it instead of the building so he didn’t just parachute out.

“We’re flying over,” Brett said, when the office was already behind them, “We’ll go down a few miles from it and take a car the rest of the way. The others are two hours out so we’ll take the time to scout, make an assessment of the odds. Maybe send Joe in for a look-around.”

James was already making plans in his head to break away and go in the second the house was in sight when Brett turned to look at him with an _I know you_ look.

“I mean it. If we go in unprepared, Aleks could get hurt. You just have to wait, James.”

And the thing was that James _knew_ Brett was right. But it still left a bitter taste in his mouth that he had to admit it.

He nodded, a quick jerk of his head, and gripped Aleks’ knife roll harder. Two hours, after days of waiting. He could do two hours; hopefully Aleks could, too.

They brought down the heli around ten miles away from the office, in an unused parking lot behind what looked like a closed down Target. Joe was the first one out of the door, looking around carefully before giving the thumbs up.

“People saw and _heard_ that, they’re gonna come looking soon,” Brett didn’t bother closing the door to the Buzzard, “Let’s get out of here, find a car.”

“What if this gets back to the building?” Trevor frowned, coming around to join them. James set on the edge of the Buzzard, kicking his legs slightly. He and Joe had finished changing all of his bandages, but there hadn’t been anything to be done about their clothes and he, Joe, and Brett were still damp from the ocean even an hour later. Not to mention, Brett was dressed like a prison guard and James like a prison _er_ \- and, if anyone looked closely, Aleks’ knife roll would be sticking out of James’ pocket.

“Don’t jinx us,” Brett looked around and then pointed toward an alley created by the Target and a fence, “That way, let’s try the parking lot.”

James pushed off the Buzzard, catching up with Joe while Trevor hurried ahead to walk beside Brett.

“You doin’ okay?” Joe glanced at him, “You kinda look fucked up.”

“What else is new?” James shrugged, then winced. Yeah, his whole body was still a bruise.

“I’m just sayin’,” Joe glanced ahead at Trevor and Brett, then lowered his voice, “Just tell me if you need a second, okay? You and Brett just pulled a prison break, then jumped in a ‘copter straight after and now we’re off to watch this place for a few hours before immediately going in.”

“I’ve been going since Aleks called me,” James started to jog, hoping to catch up with Trevor and Brett, “A little longer won’t kill me.”

“You don’t know that,” Joe sighed behind him, but started jogging to catch up, too.

They found the other two at a truck on the other side of the parking lot, Brett casually keeping watch while Trevor had disappeared inside the driver’s door, no doubt hotwiring the car.

“And that’s why we lock our doors, kids,” Brett hefted himself into the bed of the truck and then offered a hand, “Who’s getting back here? Stupid question. Joe, get your ass back here. I don’t want James or Trevor in plain view.”

“Got it, boss,” Joe nudged James and, between he and Brett, they were able to catapult Joe’s ass into the bed with Brett.

“I’ll drive,” Trevor hopped into the front seat before James could say anything.

Before he knew it, he was the only one not in the truck, and all three were staring at him.

“I missed this,” he said as sarcastically as possible, and then hurried around to the other side.

He was still putting his seatbelt on when Trevor floored it - both of them lurched forward, twin bangs from the bed with matching yells of shock - and then slammed on the break, sending James whiplashing into the seat hard enough that the painful bruises on his back all at once started to pulse and two more bangs and angry yells echoing through the window between the cab and the bed.

“ _Trevor_!” Brett yelled, and James could see the glower on his face without even needing to look.

“It’s a sensitive girl!” Trevor called back, shooting James a panicked look. James put his hands up - there was no protecting him from Brett. Trevor shot him a betrayed glare, turned back to the wheel and, much more gently, put some pressure on the gas.

The truck still lurched, but nowhere near as badly, and Trevor was able to guide it out of the parking lot with relative ease. The main road wasn’t busy, and they were on their way to the warehouse field with little trouble.

Things were going nicely, for once.

He didn’t roll down his window, but the cab was hot and he lifted his shirt a few times to create some air flow against his face, closing his eyes and just trying to calm his racing heart.

“Doin’ okay?” Trevor said and James opened his eyes in time to catch the glance Trevor sent his way.

“Fine,” He shrugged, looked out of the window at the passing blur of the small town they’d found themselves in. He and Jordan had been here once, for a mission. He recognized the warehouse field’s location, if not the field itself. One of them used to belong to the Hub, before they’d had to sell all their assets to make ends meet after the Mass Exodus, before Aleks and Sly had even joined.

Trevor didn’t say anything back for a minute, just cracked his window enough that _some_ air could come in after they tried the AC and found it, and the radio, broken.

James would have been okay with the whole ride being silent, he had a lot to think about and a lot to _not_ think about, but Trevor kept looking at him, like he had something to say but didn’t know how.

“What?” He finally sighed, catching him when he glanced over again.

“Nothing,” Trevor snapped back to the road.

“You keep looking at me,” James pointed out, “Just spit it out, now.”

“It’s just,” Trevor frowned, his hands tightening on the wheel, “I dunno how to feel.”

“We don’t do feelings much, here in Fake Chop,” James looked back out of the window, “I can’t help you.”

“No,” Trevor readjusted his grip, the leather of the wheel creaking, “But you caused it. So, I’m just...thinking.”

“I can’t say I’m sorry,” James didn’t look at him, but his voice came out softer than he would have liked it to.

“No,” Trevor shrugged, his shoulders rising nearly to his ears before dropping hard, “I know you aren’t. Jakob was right; you brought a lot home. You got us here. But…”

“I left.”

“You left,” Trevor agreed, suddenly nervous. “And I don’t like you. Right now.”

“That’s fair,” James shrugged his own shoulders, “I don’t like me right now, either.”

“I should be nicer,” Trevor stopped at a red light, his words tilting up like a question at the end, “Because of the whole torture thing.”

“I didn’t leave because I was tortured, Trev,” James did look at him then, “I did it because I didn’t trust you guys with Aleks. That’s on me, but it’s got nothing to do with the torture.”

“Still,” Trevor rubbed the wheel with the tips of his fingers, agitated, “You just - I shouldn’t be so angry. I know your story, man, with the Hub. I was _there_ , I know it fucked you guys up. But I dunno if I can forgive you like that,” he snapped, “Like Jakob. He’s pissed as hell at me.”

“Jakob’s,” James tried to figure out how to say _loyal to a fault_ without implying that Trevor wasn’t - because Trevor was _here_ , with him, going after Aleks, and hadn’t demanded anything except the truth for it. Maybe it was just that Jakob was loyal to _James_ , while Trevor had always been Fake Chop's, and specifically Aleks’, boy. He settled for; “You don’t have to forgive me.”

“I _want to_ ,” Trevor stepped on the gas again, still gentle enough that the truck started with a lurch but didn’t body slam them forward, “I want to. I should.”

“Look,” James glanced at the window leading to the bed, but he could see Brett and Joe both laying down, probably talking to each other if they were talking at all, and not listening in, “I’m not asking anyone to forgive me here. I did what I had to do - and I knew that it meant risking my place in the crew. It was worth it to me to find him, but that doesn’t mean I’m - exempt. I still left, Trevor. And if you guys can’t...don’t _want_ to give me another chance, well…” He shrugged, even while the thought made something in his guts go cold, “I’ll deal with it. Leave, or stick to the sidelines.”

Trevor took a wide turn onto a dirt road, following the signs pointing toward the warehouse field.

“For Aleks, huh?” He said after a minute of quiet.

“Isn’t everything?” James sighed, going for put upon. Instead, it just came out a little more honest than it should have.

Trevor didn’t answer, and the rest of the ride was quiet. There was no resolution to the argument, if it could have even been called an argument, but James hadn’t expected one. He’d been in Trevor’s position before - knew the complexities have having to trust someone that didn’t trust back. Forgiveness didn’t come easy in this line of work. Honestly, James...hadn’t thought he’d be forgiven by anyone. Just knowing that he still had Joe and Jakob was better than he’d expected. Hoping that he still had Aleks, when all was said and done, was all he could do.

They pulled onto the side of the road nearly a mile out, and James and Trevor got out in time to see Joe wobble out of the back and nearly crash face first into the ground. Brett caught him by his shirt, gave him just enough of a chance to get his feet under him before he toppled, and James helped him steady himself.

“Fuck, man,” Joe blinked a few times, ran a hand through his hair, “Truck beds are no good,”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Brett scoffed, but he landed a little shakily and then had to wiggle his legs a little, “Shit driving, Trev.”

“James did it,” Trevor immediately deflected, and James shot him the bird from where he was patting Joe’s back supportively.

“Let’s cut through this forest,” Brett motioned to the trees surrounding them. They’d seen the whole thing from above and it wasn’t particularly large, but it would provide enough cover to hide in and it went pretty close to the office and warehouses. “We’ll settle in, have the others call us when they’re close.”

“Sounds like a plan,” James pulled the knife roll out, unfurled it enough to pull the closest one out and then handed the roll off to Joe so he could focus on his task.

“What are you -” Brett started to say, and then James stabbed one of the back tires and yanked downward in a jagged line. It gave with a loud _pop_ , and then an angry squeal as air escaped the jagged wound he’d left in the treads. He pulled the knife back out with a jerk of his hand, flipped it once just to get the excess energy out.

“James, what the fuck,” Trevor said, not impressed.

“If the Lurkster gets out, I don’t want him using the car we hotwired and left here to get away,” James shrugged, wiping the blade off on his pants before accepting the roll back from Joe to replace it in.

He didn’t bother looking to Brett or Trevor for any sort of understanding or approval. They didn’t understand.

“He’s slippery,” He said, and that was the end of it, as far as he was concerned.

Joe caught up with him quickly, but didn’t say anything. After a second, he heard footsteps behind them - Trevor and Brett.

They walked for a while, but he didn’t have to run this mile, and his legs wouldn’t have handled it if he _had_. They were quivering by the time the house came into view as it was. He let the others pass him in attempts to find good hiding places, only collapsed into the groove of two intertwined tree trunks once he was sure they were distracted. He didn’t need Joe hovering, or Brett questioning if he was going to be able to go in. He’d given into the logic of waiting the two hours; he would go in right fuckin’ now if Brett tried to get him to stay behind.

“And now,” Brett sighed, quiet but loud enough for James to hear, “We watch.”

-

It was closer to an hour and a half that they waited for the rest of the crew; never let anyone say that Lindsey didn’t know how to break speed limits without getting caught.

Brett and Joe went back to get the others from the main road while James and Trevor stayed behind to keep watch.

The Lurkster had increased security since James’ stay with he and the Clown; there looked to be a whole team of mercs, at least seven that they’d seen. No doubt, someone would be on Aleks’ room, and James had spotted at least two cameras. Between the four of them, they’d had Trevor’s deagle and Aleks’ knives - James wouldn’t mind that if it was just him, but that wasn’t enough for all four of them to defend themselves with.

“How about this,” He whispered, voice low so that only Trevor could hear, “Shifts change every fifteen minutes - let’s grab Team A just after Team B takes over. They come close to here, if we’re quiet then we can do it behind Team B’s back and then take them from behind.”

“That’ll take out four,” Trevor glanced up, where the balcony on the second floor had a guy standing, overlooking the front yard. “Maybe we can send A-team up there?”

“Five, then,” James agreed, darting his eyes across the house. The other two, they’d only seen in passing through the windows. They would be inside patrol.

“We’ll have to break in to get the others,” He decided, “Asher takes out balcony, Anna goes for cameras. They go in first, we follow when they clear the bottom floor.”

“What about alerting the Lurkster?”

“We haven’t seen him,” James frowned, “He may be down with Aleks.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Trevor pulled a face, “I’d rather we just shot him now.”

James shrugged, turning his attention back to the building in time to see one of the mercs pass by the window, not even looking outside. They were cheap, not very good at their job, if nothing else.

“He doesn’t touch you,” James readjusted his position, laying on his stomach on the ground and looking at the house through a bush, “They made a good team because he preferred a more...psychological approach, and let the Clown do whatever he wanted. If he’s with Aleks, he isn’t being...physically hurt.”

“Somehow, that’s not, uh, reassuring,” Trevor sighed, and they went quiet again. Team A and Team B switched places again.

Joe found them a few minutes later, tapping James’ foot to catch his attention and then motioning for them to follow him.

Reluctantly, unwilling to let the office out of his sight, James did.

They didn’t go far, just enough that they wouldn’t be heard, and Brett was waiting with the rest of the crew when Joe brought them back.

“Hey, guys,” Asher waved a little, “What did we learn?”

“Trevor and I have a pretty basic plan,” James started to stretch his arms out. They’d been lying still and mostly silent for over an hour and James’ muscles had finally started to lock up again. He was going to need...a long time to fucking recover - preferably with Aleks by his side.

Look at him, fantasizing about _spa days_ like he was in his fifties.

“Hit us with it,” Lindsey crossed her arms, more for something to do with them than with any sort of disapproval. She looked over their shoulders, back toward the office, and James motioned behind them.

“A and B switch positions every fifteen. Brett and Jakob, take out A just after B takes over, Joe and I take B. There’s one guy on the balcony that I think Asher could get and Anna takes out the cameras, and that only leaves between two or three that we’ve seen left. Get through to the front door and let us in, we’ll clear the building.”

“Short and sweet,” Brett clapped, but it was nearly silent, hands losing all momentum before they’d actually made contact with each other, “That work for everyone?”

There was a general murmur of agreement before Aron spoke up, motioning to himself, Lindsey, and Trevor, “What about us?”

“Lindsey, Aron,” James clenched his fists, “There was a Target a few miles down the road, where we left the Buzzard. I bet if you get in there, you’ll find plenty of cleaning supplies. How do you feel about doing some chemistry?”

Lindsey, a smile growing on her face, nodded, “I’m always up for a little science. How big a boom are we talking?”

“Listen,” James smiled back, “I don’t want to stifle your creative vision.” he waited a moment, “I want the place burnt to the ground.”

“We can do that,” Aron agreed, exchanging glances with Lindsey that did not bode well for the office.

“And, as for Trevor,” James looked him over quickly, “The rest of us clear the house, I want you looking for Aleks.”

“Works for me,” Trevor checked the clip of his deagle, nodded, “I can do that.”

“I know,” James turned back to the group, “We do it quick, quiet. That’s not our usual style, but…”

“We can do it,” Jakob scoffed, “Quick and quiet is totally our usual style.”

“Yeah, okay,” James rolled his eyes, but he tossed one of Aleks’ knives to him and Jakob caught it easily, looking it over with a quick flick of his eyes, grip confidant on the handle. “Take care of that or he’ll skin you with it.”  
“I know, I know,” Jakob carefully tucked it into his jacket pocket, patted it to show that he was taking care of it, and James shook his head. Maybe he’d just get Trevor ice cream, instead.

Brett checked his watch, nodded to himself.

“We’ll go in five,” He decided, “That’s when the next shift is due.”

“We’ll break off,” Anna gave them all a small wave, her usual small smile, and Asher didn’t even say anything other than exchanging a quick look with Jakob that James could only assume constituted a goodbye between them - and then they were gone.

“We’ll be back,” Lindsey nodded, “Bring some experiments with us.”

“Have fun,” Brett sighed, sounding unenthusiastic, but Lindsey refused to acknowledge it.

“Leave some of it standing for us,” Aron warned, and then James watched them head back toward the main road. They weren’t as stealthy as A-team, but he didn’t doubt that they’d make it back fine. Lindsey wasn’t one to not have some sort of defense on her, and Aron could give anyone a run for their money - literally.

“Okay, children,” Brett looked around at the five of them remaining, “Let’s go. Remember - _quiet_.”

“Quiet,” James repeated, just because there was literally _no way_ that it was going to be quiet.

He was proved right literally four steps into the plan.

Team A had just turned their backs, close to where he and Joe were waiting, while Brett and Jakob had looped around to come at Team B from the side. James looked at the balcony and caught Asher parkouring up the wall of the house to catch himself on the edge of the cement slab that made the base, fingers between the columns of the railing.

Asher hauled himself up - and it wasn’t his fault that it happened; it was bad luck. A bird flew past him, let out a cry that caught Team A’s attention before Asher could completely pull his leg up.

“Hey!” one of the men shouted, pulling his gun, and James cursed under his breath and leapt out of the bush.

It was too early, Brett and Jakob hadn’t gone for Team A yet, but the guy had his gun trained on Asher and a gunshot would alert the whole area that something was going on.

Plus, Asher had his own problem to deal with - the balcony guard had spun around at Team B’s warning and pulled his own gun.

James barreled into the first gunman with no hesitation, catching him around his waist and tackling him to the ground. The gun went flying into a nearby bush, but the man was stronger and caught James’ wrist before he could bring the knife down, sending a punch to his ribs that had the bruises from when he’d jumped out of the car a few days ago flaring up.

Maybe on another day, not following up a three-day spree where he’d done nothing but fuck his body up, he could have taken it - but this wasn’t one of those days, and it had dark spots immediately appearing in his vision.

He gasped, curling in on himself, and the merc rolled them over, reeling his fist back to punch him again. James managed to move his head, sending the merc’s fist into the ground with enough force that James heard something crack against the solid dirt.

He took his chance while the merc was reeling his hand back with a snarl of pain, switched the grip he had on the knife in his hand, swung his arm to swipe across the merc’s gut.

It was sharp - deadly - and it bit through his clothes and skin and muscle easily. Cut deep, little resistance under James’ strong grip and the care of the blade.

There was a moment, not even half a second, where the merc and James made eye contact - wide blue eyes staring into dark brown - and then James was reaching up with both hands, grabbing the man’s head - frozen in shock, one hand broken and the other cradling his sliced open gut - and twisting sharply, as hard as he could.

There was another snap, a sick pop, and the man’s mouth dropped open in his silent swan song. He slumped lifelessly onto James’ body - warmth and sticky wetness pooling and then overflowing onto James’ torso from where he’d cut him open.

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” he hissed over the man’s shoulder, shoving at him hard enough that he finally toppled over, off of James. He set up, wincing at the pain radiating out from his back. Awesome. More bruises.

“Christ is right,” Joe looked over at him from under the other merc, legs wrapped tight around his waist and arms still holding his head in a folded headlock. He’d gone limp, but Joe wasn’t one to leave them alive. “You didn’t have to gut the poor guy,”

“Extreme, you’re literally suffocating an unconscious man to death right now,” James slowly turned onto his knees, trying to keep his back straight while he wobbled back onto his feet, “Don’t fucking talk to me about overkill.”

“Should have just stabbed him in the neck,” Jakob muttered, coming over to help James brush himself off. There were leaves and sticks in his hair, he could _feel them_ , but didn’t bother to pick them out. Jakob tried, but James slapped his hands away.

“Or just snapped his neck like a normal person,” Brett grunted, having dragged his mark over, “Go get your guy before the inside patrols see him, for _fuck’s sake_. Nova, what are you teaching him?”

“Stab first, hide later?” James offered, and rolled his man over with his foot.

He was dead, or close to it, but there was no way James was gonna be able to drag him anywhere. He’d started to bleed all over the glass, his white undershirt and gray jacket already stained a deep crimson.

“Go get your mark, Jake,” he didn’t look over his shoulder, just put his hands on his hips so he could breathe for a second and figure this out, “We’ll throw ‘em under the window.”

He heard Jakob retreat to do as told, watched Brett drop his man where James had offered.

“Yo,” Asher caught their attention, waving his hands instead of yelling out, “Here,”

He dropped his own guy over the balcony, and he landed with a sick thud.

“Damn,” Joe frowned, looking all five bodies over, “We really don’t do mercy, do we?”

“Do I look like Bruce to you?” James looked down at himself - his gray shirt was soaked from hips to chest with blood, his orange pants no better. Hopefully the merc had been fucking clean, because even James’ bandages had been touched by red that wasn’t his.

“No,” Brett hurried over to Asher’s body and started hauling him over, “Get your fucking guys in the bushes, what the fuck are you standing around for - no, not you, _Nova_ , I saw him body slam you.”

“I’m fine,” James started, standing up straight from where he’d started to bend to grab his merc - only to immediately lose his breath as pain stabbed up his spine, “Okay, ow, okay, maybe not,”

“This is why we don’t _tackle our marks_ ,” Brett snapped, tossing Asher’s man into the bushes with his and Joe’s, who had finally stopped choking the body out and had, instead, moved him to pile onto Brett’s.

“Your back out?” Jakob asked, panting, as he dragged his mark over.

“It’s fine,” James clenched his eyes tight for a second, forced his muscles to relax until he could stand up straight, “I’m fine. Get your body on the pile, Anna’s probably already through to the front by now.”

“She is,” Asher agreed out of nowhere, moving past all of them to grab Jakob’s mark’s feet so they could one-two toss him into the bushes with the others.

James’ glared at Brett when he opened his mouth, so Brett closed it with a deep exhale through his nose.

Joe and Asher moved to grab James’ body, but James was already heading for the front door.

Trevor, who had avoided all of it, was already there.

“You look like an escaped convict,” He said blandly, flicking his eyes down to the blood stain on James’ shirt.

“Yeah, well,” James grumbled, but didn’t have anything to say off hand in response.

“Good comeback,” Anna smiled, pulling the door all the way open, “Sorry for the wait. I went ahead and cleared the first floor.”

“You’re too good to us,” James patted her shoulder with his bloody hand as he passed, checking the halls before he nodded for Trevor to come in.

“Stick close to Anna,” he wiped the blood off the knife with his pants leg, switched his grip so he was holding it with the blade facing away, “Start from the top and go down. Don't shoot that unless you absolutely have to. I don't want anyone knowing we were here until the house goes down.”

“Got it,” Trevor hesitated, “What are you gonna do, if Anna cleared the floor?”

“Look for Luke,” James said, and then headed left toward where he hoped the kitchen would be. It was Cali, that was true, but they wouldn’t have chosen a place where they couldn’t keep their victims secluded, and no attic would be enough for that. He would try to find some sort of basement, and he could only assume that most basements would be entered from the kitchen. Maybe he’d watched too much House Hunters, but that was his goal now. Find the kitchen or, barring that, find a basement.

Trevor fell into step behind him. James...honestly had expected him to.

“I told you to stay with Anna.”

“You also told me Luke would be with Aleks, and that you were going after Luke. I'm not an idiot, Nova.”

“So modest,” James scoffed, and he heard Trevor huff softly in amusement.

James heard the others come in, and then silence as they all expanded outward. The creek of stairs as some of them went upstairs to clear the second story.

There was no kitchen on this side of the house, so he started checking doors, lifting up on the handles and pushing them open slowly to reduce noise. It would have gone faster if Trevor had checked doors, too, but he stayed with James, watching his back and checking the rooms out with the deagle as soon as James opened them up.

It was a closet, their fifth door, that they found what they were looking for. James almost missed it - he would have, but he’d reached in with a swift, frustrated sweep to push the hanging coats around like Aleks was hidden behind them and he’d tripped on the handle.

It was a trap door, hidden in a closet tucked under the stairs.

“Why does this even exist?”

“Storage, probably,” James shrugged, kneeling to carefully grab a hold of the handle, “It’s not being used for its intended purpose, that’s for fuckin’ sure.”

“Guess not,” Trevor dropped his voice, and pointed the gun at the hole. The muzzle barely touched James’ shoulder in the small space of the closet, steady aside from the slightest of tremors that Trevor couldn’t suppress.

“Go get the others,” James ordered, nudging his hand with his shoulder, “I’ll go down first. If he’s down there, he’ll focus on me and you guys can surprise him.”

“James…” Trevor said warningly and James turned his head a little to glare at him out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m not trying to be a hero, Trevor, just go do it.”

Trevor hesitated for a long moment and then carefully nodded, pulled the gun back slowly.

James waited until he was gone and then he slowly lifted the trapdoor up. It came easily, didn’t even require much excess strength. It must have been opened pretty often, to not even stick a little.

He didn’t want to think about that.

There was a stairwell, and it was painfully normal - didn't immediately strike him as a staircase leading down to a torture chamber. Lit by lights on the wooden paneling of the walls, cement steps that lead maybe ten feet down.

He didn’t hesitate to drop the trapdoor to the floor - quiet, slow, as silently as he could - and then head down.

The steps were cement, they didn’t creak, but the heels of the prison-issue boots he was wearing click-clacked a little just once as he went down the first steps before he picked his feet up and followed the rest on his toes.

The basement, when he reached it, was almost another floor. Fuck, it _was_ another floor. The room that the stairs led into was big, like a den. There was a small square of furniture, a couch and a loveseat around a small box TV and a table with boxes of take-out still sitting on it. On the other side of the room was a desk with a monitor on it; a live feed on the screen that, when James looked closer, showed Aleks.

He was at the desk before he’d even thought about it, unable to tear his eyes away. There he was. Proof that he was alive, right in front of him.

Aleks didn’t have a shirt on, sitting in the puddles of water in the corner of the room with his knees drawn up and his face angled down. He’d tied his shirt around his forehead like a bandana, with his hands holding either side of his head. Covering his ears.

James, swallowing hard, stepped away from the desk and toward the hallway. The rest of the room was empty, just an open closet with no light just off of the entrance left for him to explore. All of the walls were cement, the room lit up by lights embedded into the walls that bathed the room in a bright, florescent look.

James’ ignored the closet, went for the hallway, where he could make out three doors. If he listened hard enough, he could hear screams coming from the farthest in the back - familiar, his own voice. That was the room with Aleks.

He hadn’t even reached the first door when he heard the gun cock.

He should have checked the _goddamn_ closet. What an _idiot_.

“Nova?” a voice, less familiar than the Clown’s but no less able to send shivers of fear down his spine, said, “Oh, wow, I didn’t expect you here at all. This was unexpected. Unknown. Turn around for me.”

James, hand so tight on the handle of the knife that it hurt, grit his teeth and started to turn.

“Slow,” The Lurkster snapped, and James froze because he could see the gun pointed at him now and the Lurkster’s finger was on the trigger. What kind of bullshit gun discipline was this? “I want to see how you’ve grown.”

Gritting his teeth, James slowly turned around until he was face to face with the Lurkster. The thing about him was that he’d never hidden his face. The Clown, at least, had worn his mask; the Lurkster hadn’t cared. He’d been so confident that he wouldn’t be caught, or that his victims wouldn’t come back for him.

He was at least wearing a shirt now, a thin tank and his gloves. James remembered the touch of them against his skin, across his face, over the cloth of his blindfold, across his naked thighs, down his trembling back. He’d never been comfortable touching leather again after he’d escaped, let alone wearing it.

“You’ve grown up,” The Lurkster said, frowning, like it wasn’t something he liked.

“It’s been awhile,” James bit out, his tongue heavy. He was _angry_. He thought he’d feel...something more. More fear, a more intense lust for revenge. And he did feel those things - he was terrified, even with a knife in one hand and hundreds of kills under his belt; he wanted to _ruin_ the Lurkster for what he’d done to James, for what he’d done to _Aleks_. But mostly, he was just...so _angry_. His blood boiled. He could barely think straight.

“Too long,” the Lurkster smiled, motioned him closer with the gun, “Drop that knife and come here, Nova.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll shoot you,”

James, jaw clenched tight enough to hurt, knelt down to set the knife down before he walked closer.

He stopped when the Lurkster motioned for him to, dragging his eyes over James’ body once before nodding to himself.

He reached out with his free hand, pressed the tips of his fingers to James’ collarbone. James clenched his eyes, his fists, in an attempt to not flinch away from the touch.

The Lurkster made a humming noise, dragged his hand across James’ clavicle to his shoulder, where he grabbed James’ arm around the bandages area where the bullet had clipped him a few hours ago.

James’ vision went black for just a second.

He stumbled, trying to rip his arm away without even thinking about it, but the Lurkster didn’t let up.

He squeezed tighter and tighter, until James snatched at his wrist, finally unable to handle anymore. It was while both of his hands were busy that the Lurkster reeled his gun back and pistol-whipped James across the face.

It was a light gun, more of a small self-defense weapon than a heavy-duty fucker like James usually carried, but the blow was hard and it caught James by surprise. He fell to his knees with a yelp of pain, both hands going to cover his face protectively. His head rang, like a loud bell in his ears, a painful headache instantly pulsing from one temple to the other and every inch between them. His hand came away wet when he pulled it back, stained with blood. His cheekbone stung, though it wasn’t broken, and the skin along the right side of his face _hurt_ , went warm and wet. His vision, when he blinked back the pained wetness, was spotty at best.

“Yeah,” The Lurkster smiled, pointing the gun back at him, “That looks a lot better. On your knees, bleeding all nice and pretty. I wish Maxim was here to see you.”

He reached out, grabbed James’ by the hair so tight it felt like he was ripping some of it out, and James just tried to stay where he was - tried not to get lost in the pain. He’d never forgotten how it felt - to be on his knees, one or both of them looming over them, grabbing his hair and shaking him until he was so sick he would have thrown up if there was anything in him _to_ throw up. He’d _never_ forgotten, but to be back in that same _fucking_ position after everything he’d done, how much stronger he’d got - well. It was hard to remember where he was, _who_ he was. _When_ he was. His head hurt.

“Yeah, well,” Brett said, and James’ eyes snapped open in time to watch Brett bring the handle of a metal broom across the back of the Lurkster’s head. “Too bad he’s fuckin’ dead.”

The Lurkster dropped like a brick, the gun hitting the ground with a soft _thump_ and then soundly being kicked away by Jakob to James’ side.

“Took you guys long enough,” James said, and his voice was trembling but he wobbled to his feet without help, even if he stumbled while doing it, and wiped his bloody hands off on his pants, “Does anyone have a goddamn hair tie? Trevor, Aleks is in the back room.”

“Here,” Anna pulled her own hair down, letting it cascade over her shoulders, and he accepted it with a quick nod of thanks that nearly had him back on his knees. His cheek was still leaking blood, he could feel it pouring down his face, but he just slicked his hair back and tied it up as tightly as he could before he worried about that.

He pulled his shirt up to press it against his cheek, soak up the blood, his heart racing. He wanted to be the one to go get Aleks, but something was...stopping him. It had only been a few days, but it felt like a lifetime since he’d seen him.

Oh fuck, how was he going to react when he saw James? He’d been listening to all of his shame, his humiliation, the worst of James, for days. He’d had to have lost all fucking respect he had for him by now, not to mention what he was going to do when he found out James had abandoned Fake Chop to spread around that Aleks had been kidnapped.

James, suddenly and for the first time in a long time in regards to Aleks, wanted to run.

Yeah, it was nerves. That, or the fact that he...could not walk straight after that blow to the fucking head. Maybe both. Honestly, he couldn’t think straight, either.

“Here, let me,” Anna tilted his face, and James let her, because it meant that James wouldn’t have to look at the hallway, wouldn’t have to see Aleks’ face when he saw James.

Instead, he looked at the desktop.

He could hear Trevor fucking with the door for a second, the jingle of keys, the locking mechanism opening.

On screen, James was about a second behind, but he saw the door open and Aleks’ head snap up, watched him stumble to his feet like he was going to fight someone off; watched him slowly drop his arms when Trevor revealed himself.

He couldn’t hear it, because the door opening had only filled the basement with the soundtrack that Aleks had been listening to - James’ torture sessions.

The sound was cut off suddenly, finally, when Asher went to the desktop and pulled up a few commands.

Jakob said something and James stared at him for a second, brow furrowed.

“What?” He asked, when he realized that Jakob’s lips had been moving in front of his eyes but he hadn’t understood any of it.

“Are you okay?” Jakob said, a little slower, “Your face is fucked, dude,”  
“Fine,” James shook his head, then nodded, “Where’s Aleks?”

“James?” Aleks said, his voice scratchy and weak, and James, who just a moment earlier hadn’t been able to imagine himself ever looking at Aleks again, turned around so fast he toppled into Jakob, who had to help him stay up straight.

“Aleks,” He said, and the feeling in his chest - the crushing, suffocating feeling - that had been with him from the moment Aleks had said _kidnapped_ finally dissipated, “Aleks, I’m gonna kick your fucking ass,”

“That’s what you say to me?” Aleks, leaning against Trevor, straightened up and took three long strides to get to James’ side. He looked beaten exhausted, bloodshot eyes and gray skin, bruises all over his face and rips in the clothes he’d been in five days ago, and he _smelled_ and James had never seen anyone so _fucking_ beautiful in his life. He’d put his shirt back on, but he still looked small, fragile.

When he reached up to touch James’ face, James couldn’t help but flinch, but he exhaled hard and leaned into it almost before he’d even finished flinching. He reached up slow, caught his hand and squeezed.

“You’re okay.”

“You’re not,” Aleks brushed lightly against the bleeding gash on his cheek and then slowly turned to look at the Lurkster, still on the ground.

Aleks’ hand came away bloody when he dropped it and he held it out to Brett, “Hey, Brett.”

“It’s Hundar,” Brett said shortly, but James wasn’t fooled. Brett could barely hold back a grin.

“Don’t worry, no one is gonna tell,” Aleks said with a grim smile, and Brett handed over the metal broom.

James took a closer look over Aleks’ shoulder, but he couldn’t quite focus his vision enough to see what it was made out of. If it was metal plated, or some sort of specially made broom.

“Trev,” Aleks cleared his throat, turning his eyes back down to the Lurkster, “Go upstairs.”

“Aleks, you just got out of a _cage_ ,” Trevor started, and then stopped when Aleks looked at him. James couldn’t see the look, but the point had been made.

Trevor skulked upstairs and, after a moment and a look from James, Jakob followed him.

“We’ll just...be up there. Call if you need us,” Brett glanced between Aleks, James, and the Lurkster, “Be careful, Aleks.”

“Hm,” Aleks said, and there was something off with his voice. There _had_ been something off with his voice, though James couldn’t quite pinpoint it since it was scratchy from overuse and lack of hydration.

Within seconds, James and Aleks were the only ones left in the basement, and the Lurkster was shifting at their feet slowly, coming to.

“Did he do that to your face?” Aleks asked casually, not sounding at all like he’d just been locked in a room for five days.

“He did _that_ to _your_ face,” James said pointedly, pointing at Aleks’ own face. It had bruised up bad, black eyes and a bad cut across his forehead from what may have been a ring.

“Did he do that to _your face_ , James?” Aleks repeated, and James finally realized what was off about his voice.

He was angry, too.

“Yeah,” He admitted, “Pistol whipped me at gunpoint like a bitch.”

“Hm,” Aleks nodded, looking between the broom and the Lurkster for a few quiet seconds.

When the Lurkster had managed to open his eyes, slowly push onto his hands and knees, one hand going to rub his head slowly, Aleks lifted the broom above his head and brought it down hard across his back.

The Lurkster screamed, surprised and pained, rolled hard onto his back and squirmed like a beetle stuck on his shell.

“ _You_ ,”

“ _Me_ ,” Aleks snarled, and the smile was gone, “I told you they’d come, that you’d regret touching me.”

He lifted the broom and brought it down hard on the Lurkster again, against his face, and there was nothing the Lurkster could do to defend himself except lift his arms over his head with a loud cry of pain.

“Aleks!” James nearly leapt forward to grab the broom, confused and shocked, “Jesus, what are you doing?”

“Not now, James,” Aleks readjusted his grip on the broom and then knelt down and grabbed the Lurkster by the hair, yanking his head up so that they were eye-to-eye. His face was already busted, his nose gushing blood and a gash across his forehead. “Do you remember what else I said?”

He forced the Lurkster to look at James, “That I was gonna make you regret touching _him_ ,”

“Aleks,” James said again, mouth dry, and watched Aleks shove the Lurkster back to the ground and bring the metal handle of the broom back down on him.

The Lurkster curled in on himself, arms over his head, and James looked down at him and felt…pity.

Aleks hit him again, and again.

“You should have just kept me tied up,” Aleks panted, when the Lurkster was barely moving, moaning low and soft in pain. “Look at him.”

When the Lurkster didn't, Aleks kicked him in the head, snapped his whole head back, and the Lurkster stared blearily up at James. He didn't even look conscious, his eyes barely open and his face broken and bloody, his forehead split.

“Apologize to him.” Aleks shoved him into his back with his foot, stepped on his chest and leaned all of his weight down until the Lurkster was grabbing weakly at his ankle.

He opened his mouth, bloody and busted, but nothing came out.

“Apologize to him, you _sick motherfucker_ ,” Aleks yelled, stomping on him hard enough that the Lurkster jolted. James thought he heard something crack.

“Aleks,” James tried to say, but his throat wouldn't make the noises.

Aleks stomped harder when the Lurkster still stayed silent, and James did hear something snap that time.

“I don't hear an apology,” Aleks snarled, and the Lurkster dropped his head, looked at James.

His face was pleading, beaten in and bloody. His mouth opened, lips and teeth both busted up.

“ _Sworrah_ ,” the Lurkster got out, the word so badly slurred that James could barely understand it.

“That's not enough,” Aleks sneered down at him, “Not _nearly_ enough for what you fucking did,”

“Aleks,” James finally succeeded in saying, “Stop.”

Aleks ignored him, brought the metal broom down on the Lurkster’s face again. He wailed, hands flying to protect his face, his scream long and strangled. It made James feel sick.

He wanted to go home, now.

“Aleks _andr_ ,” he repeated, louder, “ _Stop_ ,”

“Not until he _fucking_ ,” Aleks brought the handle down across his gut, “Apologizes,” he swung it like a golf club, caught the Lurkster across the face again, “To you,” he lashed out with his foot, sent him rolling with a smear of blood across the floor with the sheer force, “For what they _did_ ,”

“I don't _want_ a _goddamn_ apology!” James shouted, finally finding his voice, “I just want you to _come home with me_!”

“We _had a home_ ,” Aleks shouted back, stomping on the Lurkster and grinding his heel into his gut, “And then these two _fuckers_ showed up and _took it from us_ ,”

“Aleks,” James looked between Aleks and the Lurkster, then down at the gun at his feet. He knelt, slow and pained, and grabbed it off the ground. “End it. They didn't take anything we can't fucking rebuild. As many times as we need to.”

Aleks, panting and furious, finally turned to glare at him, at the gun.

“Fine.” He said tightly and then brought his foot down on the Lurkster’s head with all of his might. There was a sick crunch, and the Lurkster stopped moving.

“Ew, dude,” James said, trembling, and Aleks shrugged, wipes his foot on the Lurkster’s tank.

He threw the broom on top of the body, wipes his hands off on his own shirt. It wasn't like he wasn't already splattered with blood - his own, Luke’s.

“What did you hear?” James found himself asking, finally coming closer. He didn't look at the Lurkster - he was dead, so was the Clown, that nightmare was over - but he couldn't tear his eyes from Aleks.

“Nothing.” Aleks wiped his face, eyes red rimmed and tired. His hair was greasy, messy and stained with blood, the roots of brown peeking through the blond.

“Aleks, seriously,” James grabbed his wrist, not tight, but they both flinched. “What did they show you?”

“Nothing, James.” Aleks glared, pulled out of his grip only to reach up, cup the back of James’ head and shove their foreheads together hard enough that his already pulsing headache intensified. But they were close, not kissing but sharing the same air, their eyes meeting with an intensity James had never and would never share with anyone else.

“Until _you_ decide to tell me, I didn't hear a fucking thing, James.” Aleks said quietly, licking his dry lips, and James couldn't help but tilting his head a little and closing the distance. They kissed, so light it could barely be called a kiss, and James felt something in his stomach finally settle.

“Yeah,” he said, not opening his eyes, their foreheads still resting against each other. He brought his hands up to press along Aleks’ face, his bad hand tangling in the short hair at the back of his head and his good hand resting against the line of his jaw, “Alright.”

They stayed like that, standing together over the Lurkster’s body, for a long moment.

Finally, James breathed out slow, and stepped back.

“We need to get out. Aron and Linds are gonna blow this place to fuck and back.”

“We wouldn't be us if we didn't blow it all up,” Aleks smirked, looking a little more like himself and less like the enraged demon of before.

James grabbed his wrist and headed for the door. When Aleks twisted his hand so they had tangles their fingers together instead, James didn't rib him or tease him or even pretend to complain.

The others were milling about upstairs, close to the door but keeping watch. At the foot of the stairs were the bodies of the inside patrol.

Lindsey and Aron were in the main entrance, sitting on the floor with about six bottles of chemicals and a big bowl.

“We’re ready when you are,” Jakob smirked, “Aron says this thing will be enough to set quite a fire.”

“Perfect,” James looked around at the wood paneling and professionally decorated walls. “Burn it to the fucking ground.”

“Everyone outside,” Lindsey said in her no-nonsense voice, getting off the ground and wiping her butt off. She looked Aleks over, nodded once, and they exchanged smiles that had James’ heart warming. Aleks was finally _home_.

They all filled out; Brett first, Aleks and James right after him, with the others following close behind.

James almost asked how they would be transporting so many people now that they were down a chopper, but Lindsey and Aron really had saved the day. Parked in front of the house was a big van, no windows but, when Brett pulled the back doors open, plenty of chairs.

“She's my best friend for a reason,” Brett said in response to Asher’s impressed whistle, and they all piled in. Aleks got in last, still holding tight to James’ hand, and slammed the door shut behind him.

Moments later, Lindsey and Aron joined them, Lindsey taking the wheel.

“Step on it, step on it,” Aron said, voice giddy, and Lindsey giggled - loud and excited. The van lurched into action, zero to sixty in barely a moment, and they were speeding down the road toward the main highway when there was a pop in the air and then a loud explosion behind them.

James, Aleks’ head on his shoulder, soft snores coming from his open mouth, didn't look back. All he cared about was already right next to and around him.

Aleks was home. James was home. _They_ were home.


	6. The Rabbit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys........guys its finished im.....im so emotional. thank you all SO MUCH FOR BEING SO KIND TO ME. the cc fandom is seriously one of the most welcoming and supportive fandoms ive ever been a part of? and im honestly amazed at all of you.
> 
> very special thanks to [kenn](http://allrighthello.tumblr.com/), [tay](http://nealinator.tumblr.com/), and [phoenix](http://amanduh-hess.tumblr.com/), who i literally would NEVER have been able to finish this fic without. Theyre three of the very best people ive ever met and i adore them all so much i dont have words for it.
> 
> [phoenix](http://amanduh-hess.tumblr.com/) made this AMAZING gif, and i'll be posted the others he made for all of the chapters (including alts for the chapter gifs and a few other AMAZINGLY cool ones) later on my tumblr.
> 
> you can find me at on [Tumblr](http://the-cockbite-syndicate.tumblr.com/) if you'd like! I post fake/gta!au stuff :)

James had watched Aleks try to do origami once, in all the years they’d known each other. With cell phones, laptops, tablets, and an assortment of other technologies, pen and paper were relatively scarce in their line of business, but he’d walked in on Aleks with a square piece of paper, back in Colorado, a few days after they’d moved into the Slaughterhouse.

“What’re you doin’? He asked, turning the spinny chair backwards and sitting on it so he could cross his arms over the back and rest his chin on them, eyes more on Aleks than on the paper.

“I dunno,” Aleks shrugged, not taking his eyes off the careful folds, “Nostalgia, I guess,”

“You’re doing nostalgia?”

“Yep,” He popped the ‘p’, so James went quiet and just watched. Aleks’ hands were hardly delicate at the best of times, but he was concentrating, his touches were light - like the paper could shatter into thousands of pieces at any moment.

Some sort of - square, maybe an animal, was just starting to take shape when Aleks suddenly crumpled the paper up tight in his hands and tossed it in the garbage.

“You’d you do that?” James asked, reeling back at the sudden explosion of motion after nearly ten minutes of the small of motions of Aleks folded sides.

“Bored,” He said, and he was lying, “Why? You gonna push?”

“Nah,” James raised his arms, locked his hands above his head and stretched out his upper body, grunting when something in his back popped, “Don’t care.”

“I know,” Aleks scoffed, but he seemed...pleased, in that quiet way of his. His smile made his eyes squint up, and James had to stop looking at him because the warmth in his chest made him squeamish.

“Wanna go blow up a car?” James asked, to change the subject, and Aleks pushed out of his chair.

“Who, me? Blow up a car? Not my style,” Aleks shook his head, but he was still smiling and James stood up, too, headed for the door with Aleks at his side.

Neither of them looked back at the crumpled up paper in the trash can and James forgot about it in the excitement of running from the police and never really thought about it again.

-

He woke up to hands under his shirt, pushing it up, and reacted with panic before even thinking about it.

He grabbed at the assaulting limbs with his good hand, but he was sluggish and sore and moving _hurt_ so badly, and they batted him away easily.

“ _Stop_ ,” He hissed, ready to lash out with nails if that was what it took - but then the hands gentled, no less urgent but not shoving at his clothes, either, just resting on the exposed skin of his stomach in tightly clenched fists.

“You’re covered in blood,” Aleks said, and James felt his whole body shudder in relief, relax before he’d even realized that it was Aleks, his throat finally opening up enough that he could take in air again.

“Jesus Christ, Aleks,” He pushed at his hands again, only to find himself trailing up his arms, using touch to reach Aleks’ face, barely skimming his skin with his bandaged hand. The room was pitch black, no windows or lights. James vaguely remembered being pulled out of the van, remembered Joe on one side and Jakob on the other, seeing his own house, Brett opening the door to the safe room he’d had specially made in the wall behind his bedroom.

That was where they were now, he was pretty sure; just the two of them, safely tucked behind walls and locks and his crew.

“You can’t fuckin’ - ask first, you fuck,”

“I can’t _see_ , but I remember blood,” Aleks snapped back, his voice high and shaking, “You’re bleeding; Where are you bleeding -”

“I’m not,” James let his good hand fall off Aleks’ face to touch his own, lightly brush against the painful line across his face. He felt stitches along his cheekbone, the familiar ache of a black eye when his fingers touched the flesh below and above the socket, wondered how big the scar would be, “Not anymore.”

“Fuck you,” Aleks said angrily, but he pressed into James’ bandaged hand like he was dying, and it _hurt_ but James carefully moved it to cup the back of his head and bring him down until he could feel Aleks’ body in the darkness, against his chest, supporting most of his weight with the hands still pressed into James’ stomach. He leaned up, kissed the first patch of skin he found - Aleks’ cheek - and then dragged his lips slowly across until Aleks tilted his head to meet him in another soft kiss. James vaguely remembered sharing one over the Lurkster’s body, but he’d been - barely himself, and this kiss was much fresher, if grosser with morning breath and _just woke up_ grime; their lips meet once, twice, and then a third time. James’ brow furrowed, he pulled Aleks’ closer, breathing the same air every time they pulled away before pushing back into it. Someone had helped him take his hair down before he’d passed out in the bed, and Aleks tangled the fingers of one hand in the loose ends, not pulling but just...touching. James carded his own fingers through Aleks’ hair, slow and careful, feeling for any wounds or gashes and, luckily, finding none.

They kissed for a long time, long enough that James’ heart rate had a chance to calm, his blood had a chance to stop rushing in his ears, until time itself was slow and relaxed. Aleks was soft above him, went easily when James deepened the kisses, breathed through his nose in stuttering little inhales and exhales that made James’ heart pick right back up.

Finally, Aleks stopped pressing deep kisses against his lips and, instead, rested their foreheads together for a time. They breathed together, their chests rising and falling, meeting in the middle, Aleks stroking a thumb along the skin of James’ throat that he could reach while his fingers were still wrapped in the strands of curls.

“I’m turning the light on,” He said, breaking the quiet, “I can’t fuckin’ _see_ -”

“Don’t,” James said, feeling unease start to bubble in his stomach. He didn’t usually like the dark - in fact, he _hated_ it - but he didn’t want a light on. He just wanted to sit here, in the dark with Aleks, their body heat giving them away to each other. Fuck, he just wanted Aleks.

“Don’t want to look at me?” Aleks asked, rueful, and James shook his head.

“I don’t want you to look at _me_ ,” He said quietly, because it was over - it was useless to hide, Aleks knew his most humiliating secret, had heard him at his absolute lowest, and James couldn’t handle it if he saw those facts reflected back at him with the lights on.

“Shut the fuck up,” Aleks sneered and then kissed him again, rougher, his hand moving from his hair to his throat, fingers splaying against his skin so that his thumb was resting against his Adam’s apple and his palm was flat against his collarbone.

It should have been a threat, should have made James panic, but it was just _Aleks_.

“I’m turning the light on,” Aleks said again, pulling away from the kiss only after he’d stolen every ounce of strength that James had left.

James didn’t even nod, just closed his eyes, covered his face with his left arm so he could tuck his fucked hand under the pillows, and listened for the click of the lamp. Aleks leaned over him, the hand on his collarbone taking some of the weight, and James tried not to flinch when he heard the click.

“Christ,” Aleks stuttered, set up and back on James’ thighs lightly and it was like James was being cut open, the way the heat of him pulled away. He tightened his arm across his face so Aleks’ couldn’t see him, tensed his toes to avoid jumping out of the bed and just _running_.

“Fuck, Jesus, James, what happened?” Aleks lifted his shirt again and James used his free hand to bat him off again, feeling his face going hot in humiliation and shame.

“Nothing,” He finally got out, “You’re the one who was being _tortured_ , why are you here with me instead of with Anna?”

“I got barely tortured _twice_ , fucker,” Aleks scoffed, pushing his hand away again and shoving his shirt up to his armpits, “I basically spent a few days in some water,”

“That’s _torture_ , you dumbass,” James tried to wrestle him off, but his free hand was pinned to the mattress easily. Maybe if he’d used both hands, he could have got away; but he didn’t want to reveal his face. Didn’t want to look at Aleks, see what they had done to him - let Aleks see what they had done to _him_.

“You’re torture,” Aleks shot back, pressed both warm hands to James’ stomach and made his skin jump under the touch. “Fuck, you’re bruised to shit,”

“Finding you wasn’t easy, okay?” James admitted, swallowing, Aleks’ thumb following the bump of his throat, “There were like - fuckin’ missions or some shit. It was stupid.”

“Missions? They blackmailed you?”

“Kind of?” James frowned, grabbing the sheets in his fist so he wouldn’t try to shove Aleks’ wandering hands off of him again. “It’s complicated.”

“What happened?” Aleks traced a finger up his chest, starting at his navel and ending at the dip in his collarbone, close to where his hand was still flat against the bone and skin, “How’d you find me?”

“You called me,” James inhaled sharply when Aleks pressed lightly at a bruise along his side, flinching away. Aleks smoothed his hand over an unbruised part of his chest in apology. “We tried to find you, but they were good. Got rid of all the cameras, all the witnesses. I was going to call Geoff in, when I got this letter. Had to go to some lockbox in some postal building, and then we found a shoebox with an iPhone and a fuckin’ - this stupid origami rat?”

Aleks’ hands stopped moving.

“An origami rat?”

“Yeah,” James nodded slow, his breathing evening back out. He moved against Aleks’ hands when they didn’t pick back up and Aleks, hesitantly, started running them up and down James’ skin again. It felt nice, the skin of his fingers rough and familiar. James felt guilty that Aleks was looking _him_ over, but he really couldn’t help but just - lay back and bask in his attention. He’d missed him - _fuck_ , he’d missed him like he was dying from it.

“I unfolded it and it told me to go to some motel, so Brett…dropped me off nearby and I did. There was some old - old fuckin’ _bitch_ on the TV. She’d left a _recording_. And she said if I did some shit for her, she’d tell me where you were.”

Aleks hands traveled up his chest, to his shoulders and arms, not rubbing anywhere near hard enough to constitute a _massage_ , but enough that James could just...feel him. His hands. He didn’t wander onto the bandages parts, which James was thankful for, and James slowly - so slowly he barely even noticed - let Aleks move his arm off of his face. Aleks was still sitting on his thighs, leaning over him, but James didn’t want to open his eyes and Aleks didn’t make him. He brushed against his bandaged hand, but didn’t ask questions.

“Was she Russian?” Aleks asked, his voice shaking in a way his hands weren’t, so James nodded.

“She told me where a butterfly was. Origami. It told me to break into some gala for some files in Achievement City. Brett wouldn’t let me go so I - I left, without them. Went on my own,”

“James!” Aleks protested, but James went on over him, not wanting to open that can of worms.

“Geoff sent his jet and I went to Achievement City. Gavin helped me break into the gala and, uh,” he lifted his arms a little, “I had to do some...gymnastics, I guess, maybe, to get to the files. Kinda fucked myself up,”

“You fucking _tool_ ,” Aleks snapped at him, “Why the fuck did you go alone?”

“They wouldn’t _go_!” James defended himself, “They thought it was a trap, Brett wouldn’t come, but I couldn’t - I, fuck, Aleks, I _had_ to find you!”

There was a moment of silence, where they just set in a tense quietness still echoing with the desperation that James hadn’t wanted to let on to when he’d spoken.

“What happened next?” Aleks finally prompted and, with a sigh, James continued.

“I called the bitch and she told me to drop them off with some masked guy,”

“Wha’d he look like?”

“ _Masked_ ,” James said back, and Aleks made an annoyed sound, but he didn’t stop running his hands over James’ chest. Instead, he pulled James up, yanked a little at his shirt until he could lift it off. It was still the undershirt he’d worn to the prison, hard and crusty with blood and sweat, and James was glad to have it off. He felt disgusting.

“He gave me a lizard that sent me to the Hub -”

“Fuck -”

“It was okay,” James swallowed and Aleks’ wasn’t touching his throat anymore, but the phantom weight of his thumb followed him, “It was...okay. I just had to get another file from them, on some small time Russian crew. In exchange, she gave me another piece - a bear, and a bunch of files that your kidnappers had sent to and from the guy who put the hit on you. We...Jordan, Dan and I, and then the rest of our crew, watched your torture videos.”

“Fuck,” Aleks cursed, sounding pissed, and James tried not to flinch.

“I didn’t want to,” James admitted, “I just -”

“I get it, I understand,” Aleks patted his belly, “You had to. I’m just - fuck. Embarrassed, or whatever,”  
“You did good,” James frowned, “Fuck, Aleks, you were amazing. You didn’t break.”

“Keep going,” Aleks changed the subject, “What happened next?”

“We, uh, well.” James frowned, not quite sure how to say it, “We had to rescue the Clown. You don’t - he was one of your,”

“The Clown,” Aleks sneered, “ _Rescue_ him?”

“He got himself arrested,” James shook his head, “The guy that put the hit on you - Wens. Simon Wens. There was some case on him in Russia, I guess the Clown was going to turn on him, testify and put him away. He was in the state penitentiary a ways from here, so we had to break him out.”

“So, that’s why you’re dressed like a fuckin’ convict?”

“Brett was a pig,” James couldn’t help but smile, just a twitch of his lips upward, and he heard Aleks huff out a small laugh, that stupid high-pitched _heh_ that kind of sounded a little like a cut off sneeze, and it made James’ heart go a little faster.

“So, we rescued him,” James pulled a face, cut out all of the...bits he’d rather not remember, “And then he gave Joe this stupid origami thing, I can’t even remember, that had your address on it, and then Anna blew him up in the Velum.”

Aleks laughed again, a giggle that really did have James’ heart racing and fuck, Aleks could feel it because his hand was right over James’ chest, he must have felt it.

“No one gets away from Fake Chop,” Aleks intoned, and James smiled for real.

“No,” He hesitated and then lifted both hands up to touch his face again, frame his jaw and just feel him, breathing and there in his palms, “No, they don’t.”

He felt Aleks tilt his head, pressed his face into James’ bandaged palm. It wasn’t quite a kiss, he didn’t put pressure against the skin, but James could feel the intent behind it.

“We found you,” James summed up, “And now you’re home.”

“You, uh,” Aleks lifted one hand off his stomach to lightly trace a hand down his bandages arms, “Missed a few things. Like why the fuck you’re covered in bandages and bruises. Also, I’m pretty sure you have a gunshot wound on your right arm and your hand is fucked to shit.”

“Yeah, okay, there were a few setbacks,”

“So, try again,” Aleks tapped his stomach, “Who do I have to kill?”  
“Jesus, don’t you think beating one guy to death is enough?”

“That _one guy_ gave you the pretty scar on your ugly face and the black eye, but he didn’t cut up your arms or put _this_ on you, James,” Aleks hovered over the bruises on his sides from when he’d jumped out of the car. He dropped his voice, softer, “Tell me.”

James twisted his mouth and then gave in. If he didn’t, Anna would.

“I jumped out of a car a few days ago,” He admitted, “We were being chased, I had a time limit to get to the motel. That’s where the bruises came from. I crawled through some tunnels to get to the files in the gala, too, and there was glass, so my arms and legs got fucked up. And then I had to like, there was a maze? Of fuckin’ - electrical towers or some shit? I got a few minor - shocks -”

“James, what the fuck!” Aleks dropped his hands, sounding livid, and James hurried on.

“ _Minor shocks_ , except for my hand. I accidentally grabbed a live wire. It’s not as bad as it looks,” he promised, “And then when we were breaking the Clown out, a guard kinda nailed me, but I’m fine.”

“You’re _fine_ ,” Aleks seethed, “You won’t even _look at me_ ,”

“It’s not _you_ , goddamn it,” James snapped back, “Fuck, Jesus, you just spent three days listening to me being - fucking -”

“Being _nothing_ ,” Aleks caught his flailing hand, squeezed the wrist lightly, “I told you, I didn’t hear _anything_ ,”

“You _did_ ,” James clenched his eyes tighter, “ _Everyone did_ , they _all_ heard me be fucking _weak_ ,”

“Shut _up_ ,” Aleks slammed one hand on the mattress, “You _weren’t weak_ -”

“I _broke_ , Aleks! I told them _everything_ , and then I told them _more_ when they wouldn’t let me go, I fuckin’ - I did _everything_ they asked me,”

“Stop,” Aleks said tightly, “Stop it, James, this isn’t helping you,”  
“They grabbed me off the street and I was such a piece of shit that no one even _noticed_ because I disappeared so often,” James set up, chest to chest, and he wanted to _fight_ now, he wanted to lay it all out so Aleks would see how fucking _disgusting_ he was, and prove James right, “Dragged me into some empty basement, stripped me naked,”

“ _Stop_ ,” Aleks tried to cover his mouth, but James twisted away, pulling at the aches and pains of his back and ribs enough that it brought tears to his eyes, “You aren’t doing this because you want me to know, you’re doing it to fucking _punish yourself_ -”

“They tied me to a chair and cut me up some,” James grabbed his hand and pressed to back to his side, where the scars were still there - faded, now, but there, “But that wasn’t enough. They wouldn’t feed me, the only water I got was the freezing water they soaked me in every time they came to visit. They didn’t even let me up to use the bathroom, like I was a fucking caged animal, wallowing in my own -”

Aleks grabbed his head, leaned forward, mashed their mouths together in a pale mimic of a kiss, more of a painful slapping of faces than anything else. Their teeth knocked together, their noses bumping hard enough that James’ _eye_ pulsed in pain.

He shoved at his shoulders, angry; made a loud, muffled noise of protest, but Aleks grabbed his face by his jaw and forced him into a proper kiss, tilted James’ head this way and his own head that way, until they slotted together like they always did.

It took a moment, a second where James was just _angry_ , irrationally _furious_ , and then it all fell away and he was nothing but a stinging, painful mess of emotion.

He clutched at Aleks violently, his eyes burning, kissing back more out of a desperate need than anything else.

When Aleks finally broke the kiss, they were both panting, James closer to sobs than he _ever_ would admit.

“Don’t say another _fucking_ word,” Aleks got out, sounding as angry as James had felt, “You remember what you said to me about the past?”

“I’ve said a lot to you,” James tried to rip away from Aleks’ grip, but he had him by his hair and his jaw, held him tight so he couldn’t escape.

“If you’re looking for forgiveness, you won’t find it in me, because I don’t see anything to forgive,” Aleks pressed another kiss to his lips, trailed them up the bridge of his nose and spoke against his forehead, “If you’re looking for punishment, I don’t give a _shit_ what you’ve done or if people are after you.”

James laughed, broken and cutting, “How’d I finish it, Aleksandr?”

“If you’re looking for a mindblowing orgasm,” Aleks pressed another kiss to his skin, against his jaw, close to his ear, “And no thinking for an hour, I’m your guy.”

“And if that’s what I’m looking for?” James said, confrontational and aggressive and broken apart.

Aleks kissed him again in response, slowly forced him back down. He reached over, turned the lights back off so James could finally open his eyes.

“I said,” He slipped a hand under the sheets covering James’ waist, “I’m your guy.”

-

The thing about having sex when you were as fucked up as the two of them were was that it’s a bad fucking idea.

Two hours later, James set at the counter in his kitchen, Joe making dinner. He and Aleks had, apparently, slept for nearly a full day. If they hadn’t come out on their own, even wincing and glaring accusingly at each other as they had, Anna would have come in to wake them up and finally whisk Aleks away to the medical room.

When he’d asked why Aleks hadn’t been there in the first place, she’d very patiently said, “Neither of you two emotional idiots would let go of each other, so you kind of forced my hand,”

That had made them both go silent, and red in the face.

Still, even pissed as fuck that he could barely walk, his thighs hurt like a _motherfucker_ , and every other part of him didn’t hurt much less, it was hard to watch Aleks leave.

So here he was, a newly made plate of eggs in front of him after a shower and a change of clothes, and he could barely stomach looking at it.

“Come on, man,” Joe set across from his, his own plate in hand, “You gotta eat something.”

“I’m not hungry,” He said, stomach rolling.

“You’ve barely eaten anything,” Joe pointed out, “And I really doubt you ate much at all while you were running all over the west coast,”

“I dunno,” James said honestly, picking at his eggs with a plastic fork that Joe had pulled out of his drawer. He didn’t have many real dishes - the crew was over often enough that anything breakable was broken in weeks.

“Eat,” Joe pushed at the plate, “Come on,”

Sighing, James speared some eggs on the fork and forced himself to swallow them. They tasted like ash on his tongue. All he could think about was what he’d said in the saferoom. That wasn’t how he’d wanted to talk to Aleks about it, if he’d had to talk at all. And he didn’t want Aleks thinking he was - fuck, grossed out by him, or whatever he thought.

He ate that way, one bite after the next, barely tasting anything, staring into space and thinking.

“James,” Joe finally broke the quiet, “You’ve been eating air for a whole minute,”

“What?” James blinked, frowned, looked at his empty fork and empty plate, “Oh.”

“What’s wrong?” Joe took a sip of his orange juice, “Well, aside from the obvious.”

“I,” James hesitated, then looked around. Joe was his oldest and best friend. If he couldn’t talk to him, he couldn’t talk to anyone. “I said some shit, when I was with Aleks. I was just - angry. At myself. I wanted, I dunno, I just...I wanted him to - be mad. At me, or something.”

“Sucks, man,” Joe said comfortingly and that...kind of actually did make him feel a little better. Yeah, it _did_ suck.

“Yeah,” He poked at his empty plate, “I don’t want him to think _I_ think - anything I don’t.”

“Well, maybe you should be telling him that and not me, you know?” Joe took another sip and then offered the glass to James. He took it after a second, took a deep swig, handed it back and stood up.

“You’re right.”

“I hope so,” Joe smiled, taking a bite of his own eggs, “Good luck.”

“Yeah,” James swallowed, nodded, turned and headed off toward the small wing of the house he’d set aside for A-team and their patient-victims. Anna had kind of taken it over one day and it wasn’t like he was hurting for room, so he’d never petitioned to get it back.

He found Asher and Jakob sitting on the ground in front of one room, close with their heads leaning together. Jakob was snoring, looking exhausted, but Asher cracked his eyes open as he approached.

“Hey,” James crossed his arms, frowning, “Why are you…”

“Anna’s still with Aleks,” Asher said back, voice so quiet James had to strain to hear him, “Jakob hasn’t slept since we got Aleks back. He was guarding the safe room.”

James crouched in front of Jakob, looking over his face quietly. He hadn’t had the chance to talk to him much the last few days - and, now that he was looking, Jakob looked too tired for James’ preference.

“Careful,” Asher said, and James could hear the shattered glass in it, “He might start thinking you care about someone that isn’t Aleks if he catches you looking like that.”

“I deserved that,” James said after repressing his first instinct to snap something nasty back.

“Tell that to Jakob,” Asher didn’t take his eyes off James, but they were half-lidded and tired, too, “He almost punched Trevor in the face and _yelled_ at me.”

“Sorry,” James said, not quite feeling it but knowing he should. He hadn’t like, brainwashed Jakob into being his defense lawyer when he wasn’t around. Still, it made him feel warm that, even now, Jakob would defend him when his back was turned.

“No, you aren’t,” Asher sighed, “Just...take him to a room or something. He shouldn’t be sleeping on the floor.”

“Neither should you,” James pointed out, “You’ve got a room here, Asher.”

“Maybe I’ll use it later,” Asher closed his eyes, “When I’m not pissed off at you.”

“That may be awhile,” James smiled a little, “The house was here the whole time, man. It didn’t go anywhere.”

“Stop pointing out my stupidity,” Asher grumbled, and James smiled a little wider but let him be.

He tweaked Jakob’s hair, raised an eyebrow at him when he snapped straight up and shot his eyes open with a loud, “I’m awake!”

“You sure?”

“James,” Jakob slumped, sighing in relief, “You fuckin’...scared me, man, don’t do that,”

“You’re sleeping on the floor,” James scoffed, “Don’t lecture me on proper fuckin’ behavior,”

“I’m not sleeping,” Jakob protesting, but he accepted his hand when James stood up and offered it. He pulled himself up, using James and Asher both as support, and still stumbled a little.

“Yes, you are,” James glanced at the door behind them - where Aleks was. He’d come back, after he made sure Jakob was sleeping.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jakob tried to shrug off the steadying hand on his shoulder, “Go be with Aleks, I’ll -”

“Shut the fuck up,” James said without heat, and dragged him out of the small medical area, toward the bedroom he usually stayed in. James had a pretty big house, though he wouldn’t go so far as to call it a mansion by any means, but half the reason it was so big was so that there wouldn’t be fights for room when the crew came over. Jakob, specifically, had a room he’d staked out as _his_ , and that was where James took him.

Jakob protested the whole way, but James was far too used to ignoring his own voice to be fazed by Jakob’s.

He didn’t stop until James had literally pulled him to the bed and forced him to sit on it.

“But no one’s keeping watch -”  
“Yes, someone is,” James finally interrupted, “But it ain’t you, anymore. Asher says you haven’t slept yet.”

“I was gonna sleep when you were...good.”

“I’m good.” James assured him, “Now, fucking sleep. Jesus Christ. And stop trying to punch Trevor.”

“He was talking shit,” Jakob yawned, tried to look annoyed but really just looked tired.

“He can do that,” James hesitated, “I left, Jake.”

“You left because _we_ wouldn’t help,” Jakob didn’t bother getting under the blankets, just collapsed onto his stomach, “And you came back.”

“Yeah,” James hesitated again, and then carefully patted his back and turned to leave, “Can’t leave my best guys behind, can I?”

“Nah,” Jakob turned his face into the pillow for a second to hide another yawn, “I knew you’d be back.”

“Go to fucking sleep,” James grumbled, trying to sound angry.

Jakob grumbled something back, he was picking up too much from James, and James made sure to close the door behind him. He contemplated locking it, just to get back at Jakob for trying to make him _feel things_ , but decided to cut him a break. This time.

He went back to the medical area, feeling a little more stable. It was weird, feeling himself slowly starting to reconnect with everything. When he closed his eyes, he still saw the Lurkster’s dead body at his feet, or the Clown pinning him to the wall in the prison, or the darkness of the blindfold from years ago. He wished he could just see the backs of his eyes - but at least he could tell that he’d been...kind of out of his head for a bit there. Nearly twenty full hours of sleep, some food in his stomach - even if it set heavy and gross - and having his crew all in his house was doing wonders for his mental health, as crazy as that sounded. Still, looking back at past him was...damn if it didn’t make him feel - not embarrassed, but...not proud, either.

Asher was still there when James turned the corner, but so was Anna, and they were whispering between themselves. The whispering stopped when James came closer, Asher’s face going blank while Anna turned around and smiled tiredly at him. Everyone could use a fucking nap - even James, and he’d only been awake for a few hours.

“Is he gonna live, doc?” He tried to joke, but it came out flat.

“I’m afraid so,” She put her hand, small and deceptively delicate, on his arm, “Let me look at your legs again. I see you and Joe patchworked dry bandages on.”

“Sorry, neither of us sprung for doctor college, _Anna_ ,” he said, faux annoyed, but he let her drag him into the room they were standing in front of.

Aleks was sitting on one of the twin beds, looking ready to fall over, but he was clean and bandaged up, the cut on his forehead stitched and a bowl of steaming something in front of him.

Seeing him under this light, dressed in one of James’ shirts and a pair of boxers, it was the first time that James had really had the chance to _look_ at him, and he couldn’t help but visually devour him. Look for every new bandage or treated cut, take in his bored expression as he stared at the bowl, the way his hands clenched tight at the sheets of the bed, his pressed together lips and the pale blond of his hair now that it had been cleaned up. Neither of them had been showered earlier, everything had been stale with sweat and Aleks’ hair had been greasy and gross. They’d both tasted like blood and morning breath, like bitterness, and every part of James had ached and he could only assume the same for Aleks. He had no idea if he actually got off or not, just that he’d spent a lot of time with Aleks between his thighs, and it had been more of a fucking…mental or emotional satisfaction by the end, before they both realized that they would have to walk around with the aches and pains of their kind of sex on top of the whole slew of other problems.

James found that, just like when he’d first seen him in the basement, Aleks was still the most attractive fuck he’d ever seen. He was disgusted with himself.

Aleks’ head snapped up when the door opened, smiling for just a second before going back to his default expression, “I thought you’d be here sooner.”

“I was going to,” James sighed when Anna bullied him onto the opposite bed, “Joe made me go take a shower and eat something and then I had to force Jakob to go sleep on a bed that wasn’t made out of Asher.”

“Good excuses,” Aleks scoffed, but he just kind of looked relieved, and it made James’ stomach squeeze.

“Mostly I was avoiding Anna, because she keeps trying to take my pants off,”

“Shut the hell up and strip,” Anna said sharply, and he was up and following orders before she had to threaten him with a scalpel.

“Anna’s always trying to take everyone’s pants off, don’t feel special,” Aleks said, but he was distracted, and James managed to wrestle the t-shirt he was wearing off in time to see Aleks inspecting his body. There was nothing new, nothing he hadn’t seen earlier, but his face still kind of twisted and James knew that it was because he was covered in bloody bandages from when his wrestling match with the guard had reopened some wounds on his arms, with bruises both yellowing and still a deep purple, but it still made him self-conscious.

“Can I have some privacy, dickhead?” he snapped, and Aleks turned his head sharply, pretending like he hadn’t been staring.

James dropped his pants next, kicked them next to his t-shirt so he was only in his boxers again, and then set back down on the bed.  
Anna rolled over on a stool that they’d stolen from a doctor’s office for her, just because she liked to roll on it and Asher was a fucking softie, with a tray of materials. She had more bandages - and, fuck, they were going to have to restock _so many_ medical supplies - and more numbing cream for his burns.

“Do you, uh,” Anna glanced over her shoulder at Aleks, who was still pretending to eat his soup instead of staring at James, “Want to go to a different room?”

“No,” James sighed again, giving in, “He’s gonna unwrap them in my fucking sleep if he doesn’t see them, so let’s just get it over with.”

“Some of the glass is probably working itself out right now,” Anna mentioned, picking up a pair of tweezers from the tray, “I’m gonna try to get some of it, if that’s okay.”

“Needle in a haystack,” He warned, but held out an arm.

Aleks was quiet for the next hour, and so were James and Anna. None of them said anything as she unwrapped one arm, picked out two or three small shards and then covered his cuts with more antibiotic cream so she could rewrap it and then do the other arm.

His legs got the same treatment, though Aleks finally broke his silence when Anna uncovered the strip of burnt flesh that James really was growing concerned about not being able to feel.

“What is _that_?”

“Third-degree,” Anna said lightly without looking up from her inspection, “It’s slow, but it doesn’t look like it’s getting worse. I’m checking it _every other day_ ,” she gave him a hard look, “For the next week. If we get past that, we’ll cut it back to just looking at it every week or so. It’s gonna take a while to heal, James, and it’s not gonna be pretty.”

“It’ll match his face,” Aleks glowered and James shot him the bird in response.

“I’ll show you _scarred_ , motherfucker,”

“ _Boys_ ,” Anna said pointedly and they both went quiet, but James still glared at him when Aleks glared back.

“ _Anyway_ ,” She continued, forceful, “It’ll scar, but if we keep it clean then it shouldn’t be the worst scar you’ve ever had. Or, probably, will have.”

“Don’t curse me,” He broke eye contact with _Aleksandr_ to look at her instead, “Will I ever like…get feeling back in it?”

“Maybe?” She shrugged, “I’m not a burn doctor. I know how to treat the initial wounds, but anything after it’s healed is...I’ll ask around. Maybe Asher knows.”

“Asher’s kinda pissed at me,”

“He has a right to be,” She said simply and he couldn’t help but snort, smiling.

“You got me there.”

“Why’s Asher mad?” Aleks spoke up, inhaling the last of what was in his bowl and then hopping out of the bed to fucking hobble his way over to James’ bed and sit next to him. There was a lot more space between them than usual, but Anna was in the room and James was currently undergoing a treatment, so that kind of explained why - even if it made James miss the familiar warmth of him pressed to his side.

“Remember the whole _went to Achievement City without the crew_ thing?” James looked up at the ceiling.

“Don’t forget the implications that we were incompetent so you had to go to the OG Fakes instead,” Anna helpfully reminded him.

“Yeah,” James swallowed, “That, too, I guess.”

“You _what_?” Aleks hissed, and James tried to think of something that would change the subject. He did _not_ want to have this conversation in his boxers while Anna slathered his fried up legs in antiseptic, “So, my palms got scraped up in the prison and I think a few more blistered popped and it hurts like a motherfucker, will my hand be okay?”

Aleks made an enraged noise, but Anna just sighed and taped off his leg so she could hold her hand out for his.

He placed it carefully in hers, palm up, and kept his eyes on the ceiling while she unwrapped it. He didn’t...wanna see it.

“James,” she said, disappointed, when the bandages were off.

“Look,” he started, “I had a stupid asshole to rescue, I wasn’t like, actively _trying_ to fuck it up -”

“James, you popped them _all_ ,” he saw her pick up some fluffy gauze, more of a teased cotton ball than gauze, and felt her slowly start cleaning his hand and the insides of his fingers up.

He felt Aleks grab his wrist, tight enough to hurt, and, when he looked at him, Aleks was looking at his hand, too.

He didn’t say anything to him, but he twisted his wrist so that he could tangle their fingers together, instead.

He waited for her assessment in a nervous quiet, part of him scared she’d say he would never use it again, another part of him scared that he would but he’d have no crew to use it for, and Aleks held his fingers through it all.

Finally, after she’d turned his hand a few times, looked closely at it, covered it in a thick layer of antiseptic and rewrapped it, she let out a huge - relieved - sigh.

“It should be okay,” she said, “As long as you _stop_ , James. I’m _serious_ , I’m putting you on bed rest. Your knees are fucked up, too, and I don’t even want to look at your back.”

Aleks leaned back, made a pained noise, “Yeah, it’s not pretty.”

“Perfect,” Anna looked between the two of them, “So you guys match.”

“Hey!” Aleks frowned at her, “Doctor-patient confidentiality, Anna!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” James turned to Aleks, glaring, “What’s wrong with you?”  
“Nothing!” Aleks yelped, lifting his hands to defend himself, like James could beat him to deal with his eyes.

“He’s got bruised ribs,” Anna rolled her eyes, “A _lot_ of bruises, minor cuts and scrapes. Obvious signs of torture, especially in his joints. You’ll need a lot of rest, a lot of _good_ food, and no stress on your body for at _least_ two weeks.”

“But -” Aleks started, only for James and Anna both to speak over him.

“ _No_ ,” They said at once, and his mouth snapped shut, though he crossed his arms with an annoyed look.

“We’ll rest,” James looked back at her, “If, uh, you guys are okay with taking care of business.”

“We do that already,” She scoffed, standing up to put the supplies she hadn’t used away and throw the supplies she had used out.

“Yeah, yeah,” James gave in, took the ribbing with _grace_ , because he was a _good person_. She glanced over at him when she was done, looked at them both from the door for a short moment before leaving. He saw a small smile slip onto her lips before she disappeared, shutting the door behind her.

Her departure left them alone.

James wasn’t used to things being...weird, between them. They fought often, it was kind of their thing - kind of a thing that came along with being close to James - but it was never serious, not like this.

“James -”

“Aleks - fuck,” James’ nose wrinkled up, the both of them trying to break the awkward silence at the same time.

“You, uh,” James shrugged, “You first.”

“I, uh,” Aleks hesitated, “I was just saying your name to say something.”

“Oh,” James went quiet again. The awkward silence returned.

“I’m sorry, okay?” He finally exploded, louder than necessary. It was loud enough that Aleks jumped, stared at him with wide eyes.

“You don’t -”

“I get it, okay, I don’t apologize, what the fuck ever,” James crossed his arms tight, looked at the door with every ounce of concentration he had, “I’m apologizing, so just - shut up.”

“Okay,” Aleks agreed, soft, and James almost looked at him. Almost.

“I shouldn’t have - said that shit, earlier. I was...angry. And trying to make you angry. I do…” James hesitated, tried to find the words he wanted, “I _want_ to tell you. About it.”

“You don’t have to,” Aleks touched his hand again, finger tips the barest of pressures against the back of James’ bandaged skin.

“I know,” James glanced at him, for just a second, “I want to.”

“Okay,” Aleks shifted, “Wanna, I dunno...fuck, how do we sit?”

“I’m about to tell you my tragic past and you ask _how do we sit_?” James couldn’t help but laugh, finally looking at him, and Aleks was grinning back, wry and a little bittersweet, but a grin.

“I mean, what’s the like - what’s the max comfort level you can have for tragic reveals? Do we lay on the bed and face each other? Should I hold your hand? Spoon you so you feel safe?”

“Shut the fuck _up_ ,” James shoved at his face, sent the both of them tumbling onto the bed in fits of giggles that really didn’t fit the mood but made him _happy_.

They wrestled, kind of, hobbled and crippled and sore and bruised and broken up as they both were, and Anna wouldn’t have approved but Aleks was gentle when he shoved James’ arms down and James didn’t go for his ribs like he usually would have.

Instead, they just rolled on the bed until they hit the wall, laughing and out of breath, _alive_ and _together_ , and one second James was laughing, and then he was holding back sobs and, even worse, Aleks was doing the same.

They laid together where they’d stopped, Aleks mostly on top of him, gripping each other tight and shaking. Aleks pressed his face into James’ neck, James tilted his face until his nose was brushing against the short hair on the side of Aleks’ head.

“I knew you'd come for me,” Aleks said quietly.

“I never should have made you think you had to ask me to.” James said back, just as quietly, “Wanna spoon me so I feel safe?”

“Do I make you feel safe?”

“I'm here, aren't I?” James raised an eyebrow and, flushing, Aleks tilted off of him so James could turn over. Aleks pressed against his back, tossed an arm over his naked waist and pressed his face into James’ loose hair, breathed in deep and exhaled hot against the back of his neck.

“I was nineteen,” James started, pulling one of Aleks’ hands to his face so he could hide in it.

He told Aleks the story; whispered it into his palm like the secret it should have been. He was younger, had a big ego and a bigger temper, and he thought his name was enough to keep him safe. They took him, broke him down to his base. He did things, whatever they asked, by the end - for a crust of bread, a literal handful of water. He’d thought that he was going to die there, in the cold, wet darkness, alone and terrified and in _so much pain_.

“I would have come for you,” Aleks snapped when he’d said that, angry, and James kissed his palm because he knew Aleks was angry _for_ him.

“I know,” He said back, and it was the most vulnerable thing he’d ever said to anyone in his life. He knew.

He told Aleks about what they’d done, what they’d _said_ , and his escape. How he went to Jordan, how he joined the Hub because he’d been terrified of being alone again, how he’d met Aleks and, with him, suddenly things…

“They didn’t seem so big, anymore,” he admitted, and his voice was hoarse from crying, but he didn’t _feel_ weak. Aleks had pulled him tighter and tighter to him as he’d talked and they were practically the same person at this point, their knees tucked up together, Aleks curled protectively around the slope of his spine, a wetness in his hair that he wouldn’t mention because Aleks’ hadn’t mentioned the wetness on his fingers, on his palm, the bitten off sobs during the worst memories outside of holding him close and kissing the base of his neck and stroking his belly with his free hand.

“I never wanted _anyone_ to know but, fuck, you, especially,” James admitted, sniffing hard, “You’re jumpy as hell and I - fuck, I didn’t want you to think I was, was some sort of - traitor -”

“ _No_ ,” Aleks shook his head, sounding choked up, “No, James, you aren’t a traitor. You lasted a _week_ with those fuckers. You’re _strong_ , strong as fuck. Thank you for telling me, dude. You didn’t have to.”

“They kind of forced my hand,” James said ruefully, “But…You deserved to know, from me. I remember, when we first met, you had the same pain in your face,” James hesitated, clearing his throat of the snot and _just cried_ build up before he continued, “I could see it, when you didn’t have your guard up. I didn’t need to ask about your past; I knew something had happened, like what happened to me.”

“No,” Aleks scoffed, a bitter amusement, “No one kidnapped me off the street and tortured me for their sick kicks - but I was alone. I mean. It was kinda my fault, at the end, but the point stands.”

“I won’t ask,” James wiped his own face, hot and stuffy and wet, but he felt...lighter. “I don’t want you to tell me just because I told you.”

“Nah,” Aleks pressed his hand to James’ stomach, flat and spread wide to touch as much of the soft skin there as it could reach, “This...this is too much. Too many times that it’s hurt the crew. You need to know, at least.”

And James wanted to argue - but Aleks had a point. He wouldn’t push, it wasn’t any of his _business_ , but he wasn’t going to pretend that Aleks’ past didn’t influence their decisions, now.

It was Aleks’ turn to cling for comfort, to tangle his hand in James’. He was trembling, shaking like a leaf.

“I don’t have parents,” He started with, like that was the least painful thing he could say. James thought of his mom; how lost he’d be without her, how he needed to text her soon, and just settled a hand over the one on his stomach in response.

“I dunno what happened to them, I just grew up in a group home. Except, you know, my home was run by the mafia. Russian,” He clarified, like James wouldn’t put it together, a Russian orphan and the Russian mob. “We were raised to be runners. I went to school like a normal kid but, uh, my extracurricular were a little more...I’m getting at me being a drug runner. I ran drugs for the people that ran my home, and sometimes messages and info, too. Everyone did. I wasn’t close to any of the others, I barely remember their names - but one of the people who ran the place...she was a big boss. I’m talkin’ major player levels. Mama Graire, was her name,”

And the way he said her name, a hint of the accent he sometimes faked and had lost long ago, made James want to hold him. He clutched his hand tighter, pressed it deeper into the skin of his belly, as if touching James would be enough to expel whatever was happening in his head.

“She took a liking to me. I was fast, faster than the others, and smarter. She called me her _собака_.”

“Do I know what that means?” James asked, kind of wanting to hear him say it again.

“Dog,” Aleks huffed a soft laugh into his hair, “She called me her dog. She said it was because I was scrappy, like a wild dog.”

“Sounds like a bitch,” James said honestly and Aleks laughed again, a little louder.

“Yeah, well...She took me in. Pretty much adopted me. I started to run almost exclusively for her, but then she rented me out to run for other bosses. The thing about runners, especially kids like me, is that...we’re kind of invisible. They’d all say whatever the hell they wanted - no matter how classified or secret it was - while I was standing _right there_. I was just a kid, I would be too terrified to say anything if the police came for me. And, well...no one knew that Mama G was grooming me. I’d run all day after school, then she’d come into my room and I’d tell her everything I heard that day.”

“Jesus,” James stroked his hand, moved up a little so he was rubbing his wrist with his thumb in slow, firm circles. He could feel Aleks’ pounding pulse, not just where his thumb was pressed but against his back, the way his breathing had quickened against his hair.

“She’d buy me things - clothes, food, school supplies. She was - like my mom. I loved her like one, anyway. Her daughter, Elisa - she was never around much. But she was nice to me, too. They were both...so nice, and Elisa’s boyfriend - Sergiu. He was another mafia member, but he was nice. He taught me how to tie my shoes, how to shave. Kind of like a big brother.”

“Elisa is the one who put that hit on you,” James connected the dots, “And Sergiu…”

“Yeah, that Sergiu.” Aleks pressed his forehead firm against James’ back for a moment, “I ran for Mama G a long time. Years. I don’t remember too much that she wasn’t there for. I was...I was loyal, I _loved_ her. I would have given my life for the family, not just her but _any_ of them - because they were her family.”

He stopped again, stroked James’ belly with slow, distracted motions that had James putty in his hands, the room warm and soft like an old picture.

“I was fourteen when it went to shit,” He started again after a long moment of the two of them just quietly touching, “Bosses started going down. Someone connected it back to me and started chasing me down. I went to Mama G, because I didn’t know what else to do. I’d of rather cut out my own tongue than betray the family,”

“You were a kid,” James said gently, as gently as a voice like his could be.

“Still,” Aleks shrugged, “They were all I had. So, I went to Mama G, and she - she sits me down on her desk and takes my hands and says ‘ _собака, I’m sorry._ ’ And I say, ‘ _why are you sorry?_ ’” His breath hitched, “And she says, ‘ _I’m a cop, Sasha,_ ’ and...and at first, I don’t understand. So, she explains it. She’s a cop. She’s been working on this - trying to take down the branch of the mob that runs in our part of the city, for decades. That she’s finally got some good information, that she’s been feeding _my_ information to the police the whole time. That...That she was _sorry_ , but that everyone thought _I_ was the snitch, because she couldn’t go down for this yet. She wasn’t done with her justice, not yet.”

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” James nearly turned, but Aleks was holding him too tight, wouldn’t loosen his grip.

“Don’t,” Aleks set tightly, muffled in the skin of James’ shoulder, “Don’t. Just let me...Fuck, I just want to do this.”

“Okay,” James stopped trying to turn, relaxed back in Aleks’ arms and breathed slow and steady until they were both calm again.

“She says that I’m in danger, that they’re gonna fuckin’ - whisper me away to some dog house and torture me until I tell them where I got all that information, who I was snitching to, all of it, but that I _couldn’t_ tell. That she was like my mom, she’d raised me, and I couldn’t betray her like that. She was sending me to America so I would be safe. With Elisa and Sergiu, because Sergiu was in hot water, too. They’d watch out for me. Take care of me.”

James nodded, closed his eyes and continued stroking up and down Aleks’ arm, like that could somehow make it any better that some bitch had manipulated him as a _child_.

“So, she ships us off to America. She gives me a new identity - Alexander Markov - and _parents_. They enroll me in a high school in New York for a while. We tried to be clean. I ran track, got good grades in everything but English for a while, but I got better. Made myself lose the accent. And then Sergiu, he gets bored. We were a _crime family_ , honest living - it didn’t work for us. So, Sergiu joins this gang, and then I join it. I dropped out of high school a little later; no point in sticking around to pretend I was a normal kid. It went okay for a while, but Sergiu pissed off the wrong people, so we went to Boston. Same story, rinse, repeat; we head up to Maine for a bit. We’re in some state, fuck, I don’t even remember, when someone drops a hint to the police.”

“The night you guys,” James made another connection, “What Elisa was talking about.”

“Elisa stayed behind,” Aleks confirmed, “She really was innocent, and she was gonna distract them. Let them root around, whatever. Everyone else had left, it was just Sergiu and I but the cops saw us a few blocks away and took off after us so we ran. Sergiu boosted me up a wall, I just had to reach down to pull him up but - but the police were there, so I,”

He cut off again, voice shaking, “Fuck, James, I left him, okay? I cut and run. The police were coming, I couldn’t go back to Russia, I was only - shit, nineteen? Twenty? I didn’t want to die!”

“Hey,” James nudged him with his shoulder, hard enough to rock them both, “Hey, shut the fuck up; You think I’m judging you for throwing him under the bus? Shit, Aleks, if it kept you alive, I’d go back in time and do it my fucking self!”

Aleks laughed wetly, “You’d say that.”

“Hell yeah, I would,” James grumbled, gripping his hand tight in his head, moved it from his belly to his heart so he could feel the way it was beating - slower than Aleks’, but there, and fast.

“I was by myself for a few months, and then I joined up with some short-term crew for a job and met Eddie. He took me in, kind of. We watched each other’s backs for a long time. And then you guys invited him into the Hub and I came with him.”

“Fuck,” James couldn’t help but laugh a little, flushing at what he was about to admit, “You had me hook, line, and sinker, you know?”

“ _Me_?” Aleks scoffed, “With that hair?”

“It was cute,” James snorted, giggling at the memory, “Maybe I had a thing for emo twinks.”

“Fuck you, man,” Aleks readjusted his hold on him, still sounding choked up, but at least a little more amused now, “That hair was a mistake.”

“Nah, it was…” James tried to think of a word for it that wasn’t _cute_ , “Uh, it grew on me.”

“I grew on you, idiot. _Immediately_. God, what’s that meme? Aw, babe, you had a crush on me, that’s so embarrassing,” Aleks kissed his neck again and James batted at him, trying not to grin, sputtering.

“Call me _babe_ again, and I’ll -”

“What? Fall in _love_ with me?” Aleks drawled the word out, teasing and fond, and James couldn’t even stop himself from saying it.

“Yeah.”

Oh.

Oh, and that - that’s what James wanted. He wanted to tell him, now, like this, when he was airing all of his dirty laundry for Aleks to see and accept or reject.

“Aleks,” He stared at the wall, eyes wide, and he could feel his heart speed up. Aleks’ hand under his, over his chest, he knew Aleks could feel it to, “Jesus, I love you. I’m _in_ love with you.”

Aleks, for a long moment, didn’t answer. When he did, it was to pull away a little so he could sit up and look at James’ face.

He looked _wrecked_.

“James.”

James...didn’t feel nervous. Didn’t feel scared of Aleks’ reaction. He reached up brushed his thumbs under the red rims of Aleks’ eyes. “I’m in love with you. I didn’t - tell you, I should have but I _didn’t_ , because I didn’t...Fuck, I didn’t want you to _know_ how much, _fuck -_ ” he stopped, trying to get his words in order, “Power you had over me. But you had to _ask me to come after you_ ,”

“I -” Aleks opened his mouth, closed it again, just _looking_ down at him, and James couldn’t help but bask in it, in being what Aleks was looking at.

“You don’t have to say it,” James assured him, dropping his arms because they were tired. He let one drop above his head, the other going back to rest on his stomach, “I don’t need to hear it. I just need you to _know it_.”

“I _want_ to say it,” Aleks said, sounding close to tears again, “James, I do, you have to believe me,”

“I do,” James grinned, big and wide, pleased, “I do, don’t worry.”

“I’m gonna say it back,” Aleks licked his lips, “Not now, but I will. But it’s true.”

He pressed his hand to his chest, above his heart, “This isn’t mine, anymore.”

“Gay,” James said, but he tilted his head a little and Aleks leaned down, kissed him with the emotions that he couldn’t say. James hadn’t expected a confession in return - Aleks could barely admit when he was _happy_ , let alone that he was...in love, or whatever. But James knew. Had known. The only change was that now Aleks knew that James was, too.

-

“It was our thing,” Aleks said quietly, staring at the wrinkled and ripped papers on the counter. Someone had collected them all from James’ various pants, along with the iPhone, and Anna had given them to him after a full three days of rest and relaxation in his house. He and Aleks hadn’t spent _every_ moment together, but it kind of felt like it. He’d get sick of Aleks’ stupid face soon, they’d fall back into their normal routine eventually but, for now, he was okay with being with him so often.

The others, at least, had slowly but surely gone home. Lindsey had been first, mostly because she missed her own bed and because she and Brett needed to be up to actually keep their crew running while James and Aleks took the weeks off that were being forced on them by Anna. Brett and Aron had left shortly after her, and then Anna and Asher. Jakob had refused to leave until Trevor had - somehow convinced that Trevor was going to like...smother James in his sleep, or something, so Joe had taken them both home. He’d come back long enough to drop their girls off and, honestly, whatever emotions Aleks has exposed in his reunion with James or the crew had paled in comparison to how brightly he’d smiled, how loudly and freely he’d laughed, with Mishka in his arms and Celia twined between his feet and Ein running around in a tizzy, barking up a storm.

Celia was with them now, the dogs in the backyard while she’d set up camp on the corner of the kitchen island, her tail slowly flicking and her eyes steadily blinking slower and slower as she watched them both.

“The cryptic messages and waiting until the last ring when people call?”

“Yeah, how’d you guess?” Aleks shot him a deadpan stare and James couldn’t help but smile a little, reaching out to boop Celia’s paw when she lazily stretched out. She retracted it immediately, opened one half rolled up eye to stare at him until he took his hand back and she could stretch out again.

“Origami seems like a weird talent for a police officer-turned-mob boss to have.” James tried to refold the butterfly but stopped after the second fold. He had literally no idea.

“It was how she de-stressed.” Aleks explained, pulling what had once been the bear closer to him so he could look the paper over. He tried to fold it too and got much farther than James had, but still stopped before anything of any shape came out. “I used to be able to fold a few.”

“Not anymore, huh?”

“When do I have time to fold paper?” Aleks scoffed, but he continued to fiddle with the first few folds, “They all mean something, or she always told me stories about them as she folded them. Stupid little-kid shit she probably made up. Stories with morals a little too gray for the average bedtime tale, but perfect for a mob kid.”

“Tell me the stories. Maybe it’ll shed some light on why I was risking my life for some goddamn folded art instead of a text.” James picked up the rat paper, tilting it this way and that, “What’s the rat?”

“Something about...friendship, I think? Hard to translate, maybe,” Aleks took the paper from him, twisting it this way and that in his fingers, “Uh, I just remember that it came from, like...did you know rats are emphatic? They’ll help other rats that are in danger or hurt, even if it means giving up on a treat. Usually, rats are bad guys in stories,” Aleks set the paper down softly, “But Mama G...she always looked for different interpretations.”

“Huh,” James hesitated, “She asked me about you. I didn’t tell her much - that you had some pets, that you were fine until this happened.”

Aleks wrinkled his nose up, but shrugged, “What can you do? She was always a nosey bitch. Which was this one?”

“Uh,” James looked it over quickly, “The lizard.”

“Lizards were sacrificial in her stories,” Aleks rolled the paper into a thin, thin straw and then slowly folded it up, “They can lose their limbs easy, but they regrow, in time. I bet she thought she was being clever - sending you back to the Hub with this. A lost limb. Maybe she thought you’d reattach.”

“In hell,” James sneered, flicking the paper away when Aleks slid it his way.

“And this one?”

“The butterfly,” James remembered, “It sent me to the Fake AH,”

“They’re tricksters,” Aleks fingered the piece of paper, traced the looping cursive with one finger, “They confuse their predators, twist the truth. They were always up to trouble. They were my favorite,” Aleks admitted, smiling a little, and James knocked on the counter with his knuckles because _he’d forgotten_.

“What the _fuck_ is up with the OG Fakes?” He demanded, “Do you know?”

“Me? How the fuck would I know? What are you talking about?”

“They -” James waved his hands around, “They were _all kissing_ , Aleks!”

“Uh,” Aleks blinked, distracted from his memories, “Well...there was that rumor, for a while,”

“I didn’t think it was _true_ ,”

“Well, you know,” Aleks smirked, shrugging, “They’ve always been...very close.”

“ _Close_ ,” James scoffed, “Why does everyone say that instead of just _fucking_?”

“To hide the truth,” Aleks waved the paper around a little, “We’re all butterflies, James.”

“Okay, you ancient Russian woman,” James snatched the paper out of the air, gave him the bear instead, “What’s the bear, then? Big, angry, strong?”

“You wish,” Aleks smiled wider, big and bright, and James had to stop looking at him before he did something stupid like kiss him. “The bear is docile,”

“I think you said that wrong. It’s do _cile_ ,”

“Listen,” Aleks held out a hand, “Now, you shut the fuck up,”

“I’m just trying to make you better yourself as a goddamn human man!”  
“I don’t need this from _you_ ,” Aleks transformed his held out hand into the bird, “ _Docile_ , docile, what the fuck _ever_ ,”

“Bears aren’t docile, they’ll fuck you up,”

“If you trap them,” Aleks agreed, “But they try to avoid humans. They were always hermits in her stories; the old bear on the top of the mountain. The wise bear deep in the caves. But, you’re right, once you back them into a corner…”

“And the shark? Joe said that’s what it was.”

“Curious,” Aleks accepted the paper. It was the only one not soft from being crumpled up and ripped around the edges because James had shoved it in his pocket and hadn’t needed it again. It still crinkled when Aleks spread it out and, slowly, he started to refold it. He got a lot farther than before - James could _almost_ see the shape, before Aleks shook his head, giving up, “But vicious. Stupid, when it gets bloodthirsty.”

“Sounds like my kind of animal,” James flashed a sharp smile and it made Aleks smile back, looking at James much more fondly than he had any right to after James had woken him up by banging two pans together in the bedroom doorway.

“You’re more of a bunny,” Aleks decided, leaning against the counter. He reached out, pressed his fingers to James’ cheek, and James’ breathing hitched before he could control it, his eyes fluttering shut. He leaned into the touch, still enthralled in it - that Aleks was alive, that he was safe, that he was here, that he was still with James.

“Fuck you,”

“No, I liked the rabbits, too,” Aleks admitted, moving his hand so he was cupping his jaw. He used it to lead James over the counter so they could meet in the middle, kiss slow and soft, “Always in pairs, didn’t go far from each other. You know a rabbit can die from loneliness?”

“You callin’ me _lonely_?” James opened his eyes, raised an eyebrow, and found Aleks grinning.

“Not anymore. You’re welcome, asshole.”

“Fuck you,” He repeated, but he pulled Aleks back into a kiss to take the bite out of his words.

They kissed for a long time, slow and intense, leaving them both panting and a little hazy, but it didn’t progress further. They’d learned their lesson after the first time and weren’t going to be too adventurous for a while longer.

“Should we stop ignoring it now?” Aleks asked, when they were winding down.

“Only if you want to,” James shrugged, and didn’t look at the iPhone.

“I gotta face her at some point,” Aleks hesitated, “At least I’m not alone, now.”

“No,” James said firmly, “You aren’t.”

Aleks sighed, pressed their foreheads together for just a moment, like he was using James to gather strength, and then pulled away to grab the phone. The text James had received an hour ago read _собака, приходите_ with an address and a three digit number underneath and he had no idea what that meant, but it had made Aleks angry enough that he’d almost thrown the phone.

“Looks like it’s -” Aleks frowned at his own phone, “Like an old person’s home?”

“I told you,” James reminded him, “She looked like she had a lot of medical shit going on.”

“James, she was loaded,” Aleks frowned, “Why the hell is she at an old person’s home?”

“Only one way to find out,” James shrugged and Aleks, looking unhappy, nodded.

“We gotta go.”

“Oh,” James blinked, “Well. Two ways, then. I thought we could just call and ask.”

“I think confronting my cop-mom mother may require more than a phone call, James,” Aleks said, but he was smiling again and James shrugged.

“Not if you don’t want it to. _We_ call the shots now, dude. Not her.”

“We don’t know what she has on us,”

“I will literally go and shoot her in the head right now,” James leaned on the counter, reached out and rubbed Celia’s head. She leaned into it, a low purr rumbling both her and the counter.

“Please don’t do that,” Aleks mumbled, still looking between his phone and the iPhone, “At least, not until we know what she knows.”

“Fair,” James admitted, “But I’ll do it.”

“I know,” Aleks glanced at him, that same fond look in his eyes, “Thanks.”

James shrugged, went back to petting Celia. They set in silence for maybe ten minutes, James cooing over Aleks’ stupid, beautiful cat while Aleks thought.

She’d actually stood up and wandered casually over to James and they were butting heads like he was also a cat - and he loved it, even if he wouldn’t say that out loud - when Aleks finally made the call.

“Let’s go see her. Maybe she can shed some light on how they found us.”

“And then we shoot her in the head?”

“Maybe,” Aleks laughed, shoving both phones in his pockets, “The headshot is definitely a maybe.”

“Pussy,” James snorted, but he kissed Celia on her head while she watched them both lazily. He’d never felt more fond of her in his _life_ than he had since Joe had brought her to his place.

They had a few things to get in order before they left. Aleks let the dogs in, James went and put actual clothes on because he’d been wandering around in his boxers basically from the moment that they’d been alone, they did pack a gun or two in the car, and then James grabbed his phone and stared at it for three minutes before Aleks found him standing in the hallway.

“What are you doing?”

“We should,” James hesitated, “Tell Brett or something, right?”

“You don’t have to tell the crew every time you do something from now on,” Aleks shrugged, “Look, it’s...it’ll take a while. But we’ll get through it.”

“I know,” James unlocked his phone but hesitated over Brett’s name, “I just wanna try out this whole...trusting thing.”

Aleks’ lips stretched into a grin. James hadn’t seen him smile this much in...a while. “Then, I guess, go for it.”

James rolled his eyes, shoved his shoulder, but pressed on Brett’s name and waited for the rings.

Brett answered after the first, sounding a little tired, “Yeah? Is someone else kidnapped now?”

“Nah,” James twisted his hand into the hem of his shirt, “Aleks and I are gonna go see the old bitch. She sent us an address.”

“It could be -”

“A trap, I know,” James hesitated, “That’s why I’m telling you before we go.”

“Oh,” Brett said, and it sounded like he didn’t mean to say it. “Um, yeah. Okay. We’ll track your phone. Call if you need back up.”

“We will,” James said, and meant it.

Brett made a humming noise, confirming that he’d heard, and then hung up.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Aleks mocked so James glared at him until he ran out of the house and into the garage.

James drove, because Aleks’ car was still at his apartment and, as far as either of them were concerned, Aleks was never going back there. They’d pick it up later, send the guys to pack his shit up and bring it to James’ place until he could find another apartment - or, just...not leave James’. They’d talk about it later, when this was taken care of.

For now, James drove. The address was close to forty minutes away and maybe that would have stressed James out, but his crew was watching them and that was...reassuring in a way that he liked.

Aleks picked the music, some emo piece of shit band that Aleks hummed along to under his breath and James pretended he wasn’t into, and looked out of the window. James drove one handed so they could tangle their fingers together on the console between them, more so just so that they were _touching_ than because they wanted to hold hands, and neither of them talked about it.

There was traffic, because it was LA, but it wasn’t _horrible_ , and they found the place an hour after they left.

“It’s nice,” James commented, parking in the very back of the lot.

“But why is she _here_?” Aleks asked again, “Why America? Why some nice old person’s home in California?”

“Mother Russia is a hard bitch,” James opened his door, “Maybe she wanted to come darken the doorstep of Father Freedom,”

“I hate you,” Aleks said with feeling and got out.

James left his gun behind, for now, but he knew Aleks had at least two knives on him. He still hadn’t forgiven James for leaving his biggest knife back at the office that Lindsey and Aron burned down, but James had sworn to replace it and that seemed to be enough for him to avoid the Death Glare as Aleks adjusted the one sheathed against his hip before they got too close to the building.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Aleks took the lead, heading for the front doors, and James followed close behind, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious.

Nothing jumped out at him. There was a metal detector when they walked in, but no one to watch it, so James went through it fine, and then Aleks handed him his knives and rings and went through it, too. They ducked into a dark corner and, while Aleks was putting his things back on, James took the chance to look around.

It was a big place, nice, but nothing particularly special aside from the high class look. There was soft music playing, something that may have been from the 40s, and ornate, plush chairs scattered around the first room. It looked like a lobby, thick carpet and big windows with plenty of natural light and decorative plants.

“The number is probably for the room,” Aleks mumbled, fixing his jacket to hide his knives again, “Let’s just...get this over with.”

“I’ve got your back,” James patted his shoulder then shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to look casual when an elderly woman and a young guy in scrubs came out of one of the halls that led into the lobby.

Aleks gave them a friendly wave, that stupid boy-next-door smile on his face, and then checked his phone one last time and headed off in a direction with a confidence that James knew he was faking.

It took them two turn arounds before they found the room they were looking for - going all the way down two halls before they finally found a plaque that gave the directions they needed. She was two stories up, at the leftmost end of a long hall light brightly with soft light and classy artwork that reflected the bulbs into the floor.

Aleks hadn’t spoke the whole time aside from a few curses as they were looking but he stopped in front of the door, reached out and grabbed James’ sleeve.

“I dunno if I can do this.”

“Gimme a knife,” James said, seriously, “I’ll go in and slit her throat, we can leave. Or we can just leave. Either one.”

“Yeah?” Aleks hesitates, “We drove an hour here, she got me kidnapped and forced you to relive your trauma and you’d just...let her go?”

“Hakuna Matata, motherfucker,” James said, shrugging, “They’re dead, Brett’s working on getting a hit on Wens, and she’s probably gonna bite it soon, too. Let’s go.”

Aleks looked at him long and hard, like he was trying to find the lie - but there wasn’t one, and he seemed to see that because his shoulders slumped and he nodded.

“Thanks, James.”

“Don’t be an idiot.” He said, stepping away from the door so Aleks could grab the handle and walk in. James had known they wouldn’t leave, of course Aleks wouldn’t resist going in, but...James had wanted him to know that the option was open.

It was a big room, when he looked inside. It was also, unsurprisingly, covered in folded pieces of paper. Flowers hung from the ceiling, intricate and delicate, made out of some kind of nearly see-through tissue paper, while animals decorated the walls and shelves. There was a disproportionate number of dogs, but also of birds. Largest of them all was an owl with great, wide wings. It must have been the length of one of James’ arms, the face glaring at him as if it was a real owl above the bed directly across from the door.

The old bitch from the video set in the bed, watching them.

Next to him, he felt Aleks lock up, rigid.

“I knew you come, eventually.” She said, and her accent was still thick. Her voice was lower than he remembered it being, just a little, full and rough like a scratchy blanket.  
“No, you didn’t.” Aleks said tightly, stepping inside only far enough to shut the door. He still didn’t let go of James’ wrist, so James stuck to his side. He couldn’t help but glare, couldn’t keep the sneer off his face, as he looked at her. He didn’t know how, but this was _her fault_ \- all of it - and he hated her for it.

“Didn’t I?” she smiled, slow and small, “You have grown, _собака,_ ”

“Don’t call me that,” Aleks said sharply, “It’s Aleks. Why are you here?”

“To see you,” She said, ignoring his first comment.

“How did you know where to find me? How did _Simon_ know where to find me?”

“Sasha,” She started, and then had to stop to cough hard into a napkin. “Come here, Sasha. I will tell you.”

“I’d rather not.” Aleks said, not moving. When she didn’t respond, didn’t break eye contact, he huffed in frustration and came closer, dragging James after him.

She nodded when he was close enough for her, which was just in front of the only table in the room. There was one chair and she motioned to it with one frail hand. Aleks set without protest, but he was so tense that his spine didn’t even curve into the back of it, barely perched in place. James stood at his side, ready for anything - violence or yelling or tears, any or all of the above.

“I have been watching since you left home, Sasha,” she said quietly, hoarse, “How do you think Elisa found you? You truly think she spotted you from _picture_? For such infamous men, you did not check kitchen for camera. Not smart.”

“First of all,” Aleks lifted a finger, “I didn't _leave home_ , Mama, you _forced me out of the country_ ,” he flicked his second finger you, “Second if all, Elisa _almost killed my crew member_ ,”

“You know Elisa,” The woman, confirmed as Mama Graire now, waved her hand, “Emotional. Always emotional. _I want to go to America, with Sergiu_ , she says, so I send her off and she loses my _собака_ and her Sergiu is killed by _American police_ , of all things!”

“Trevor almost died, protecting me.”

“Yes,” Graire dropped her hand, “Yes, I see that hurt you.”

“Since when do _you_ care about what _hurts_ me?” Aleks snapped back, “Is that what happened to Wens, too? Did you sell me out?”

She was quiet for a long moment and James knew the answer, had gripped Aleks shoulder to stop him from leaping up in a rage when she did finally speak.

“There is case,” she said, “Against Wens. He has killed _many_ children, was one of the men I used you to spy on, though you were young and may not recognize him now. He has been searching for you for...long time because he believes you are source of leaked information. I told underling where you were in exchange for proof of his crimes and underling gave him information for raise in organization.”

“You _bitch_ ,” James responded loudly, because Aleks’ mouth had dropped open but no words had come out.

“I have been called worse,” she said, looking at him, and she barely look interested. He resisted the urge to punch her in the face.

“Ah,” she turned her attention back to Aleks, who still hadn’t said anything.

“Listen, Sasha,” she sighed, “I have done lot of things in life that have hurt people that I...care about. I do not regret, because I do only what I _must_ , but some things...they stick with you.” she touched her chest, “In soul. My husband, my daughter, _you,_ ”

“Are you _apologizing_ for selling him out?” James demanded, so enraged that he could barely speak. He could feel Aleks trembling under his hand and it was just pushing him closer and closer to a state of _fury_ that he hadn’t felt since he was younger. His vision was beginning to bleed red.

“Apologizing?” She smiled again, though it was without mirth, “I am not _sorry_ , boy. Only...Saddened. And, in my condition,” She looked at the napkin in her head, tilted it to show them, “I am dying and my heart is heavy, Sasha.”

“Dying?” Aleks finally spoke up, and his voice cracked. James looked down at him, tried to gauge how he was taking that, and saw only that his eyes were dry but his mouth was set in a thin, grim line. “What could kill you, Mama?”

“Cancer,” She scoffed, as if annoyed, “Something even old crow like me cannot beat off. I do not regret - I _cannot_ regret. But...I see that I have sacrificed _much_ in pursuit of justice. It is too late to make amends with husband, with _moya dorogaya doch_. But with you, at least...no longer _moy собака_ but now _moy volk._ You are here, breathing, and you are kind despite what I have done.”

“You’re…” Aleks licked his lips, the hand around James’ wrist squeezing so tight that James had to hold back a wince, “You’re asking me to forgive you. You won’t _apologize_ , but you’re asking me to _forgive you_?”

She closed her eyes, exhaled hard. “ _Da_.”

James stared at her, actually physically taken aback at the gall.

She was frail, though James could see that she could have once been a formidable woman. Broad shouldered, wide faced, dark haired; once someone that could have pulled the trigger without flinching. James tried not to think about the similarities between the two of them. Tried not to wonder if he was going to be in her position one day, because he could see - clear as day - what her position was. She was scared, now that life was coming to an end and she was being forced to come to terms with all the people she’d fucked over for her own goals. And, God, the _similarities_. It made him sick, in that way that sometimes looking in the mirror did.

“You once said that once you cared, you were dead,” Aleks inhaled sharply, a hard sob that was so shocking that James actually did flinch, “What changed your mind? Why does my forgiveness matter to you, after all this time?”

“Ah, _moy volk_ ,” Graire tilted her head toward them both, opening her tired eyes again to watch them, “Sending you away was hardest thing I ever did. Elisa was grown, she made her choice, but you...I ripped choice away from you. But I must do job, you understand? It was all I had. I had given everything for job. I thought you would be safe with them, but you were always spirited. Survival instincts that give your name, and more vicious than even I could guess. _Moy volk_ , but in English?”

“Wolf,” Aleks translated, voice thoughtless, and she motioned her fingers at him in thanks.

“Yes, yes, survival instincts of rabid wolf. I should have known Elisa and Sergiu would stand no chance. You were meant to be so far, _moy volk,_ ”

“What, you endangered my life and sent me to America because you _cared_?” Aleks spat, suddenly animated, “Mama, that makes no sense!”

“I did it,” She opened her eyes fully, stared at him seriously, “Because of my love for you, Sasha. You understand? I could not let you stay in Russia, you would have died in _weeks_.”

“No,” Aleks shook his head, standing up, “You did it because you felt _guilty_ about sending me to my fucking death. You’re begging for forgiveness because you’re _scared_ , Mama. You’re scared that all of the pain you caused and the people you’ve hurt are going to damn you and they’re going to come after you once you’ve died.”

“ _Moy volk_ ,” she started but he cut her off, his voice gaining volume as he continued.

“I was _terrified out of my mind_ for years! Do _you_ understand? I couldn’t trust _anyone_ , no matter how kind they were to me or how much they cared about me because all I could remember was _you_ , raising me and grooming me and sinking me deeper and deeper into those bosses so that you could _use me_ and then you sent me away with your exile daughter and her criminal boyfriend so you wouldn’t have to worry about protecting me - to get rid of your own guilt!”

He yanked at James’ hand, shoved him forward so he was between them and pointed at him with the hand that wasn’t clutching James’ so tight that their fingers were all white, “This is James. You’ve been terrorizing him for days now, in some wild attempt to do one _final fucking mission_ for your job. You remember him since we didn’t check for _cameras_?”

“Hi,” James smiled, ruthless, “I killed your daughter.”

“I recall.” She said mildly, staring at him.

“Yeah, _you recall_ ,” Aleks snapped, “You know what _else_ you should recall? That Simon dug up his past, that he was exposed and _hurt for me_ , something _you_ wouldn’t ever imagine doing and you - you were my _mother_ , in every sense but one!” He motioned more emphatically and James watched the way she seemed to sink into herself.

“I spent years alone, too afraid to even _breathe_ half the time, and _he_ changed that. I built a life with him and my crew. I could finally feel safe and then you ripped it all away from me again. You nearly destroyed my whole life _again_ , but I won’t be afraid anymore. I’m _not_ afraid anymore because he saved me - just like he _fucking_ said he would. I care about him. I _love him_ and I’m not afraid of that anymore!”

He stopped, his voice having risen to a high enough level that James was afraid someone was going to come investigate the noise. They hadn’t passed many employees or other patients in the halls, but this was high class enough of a place that he didn’t doubt that security was hidden - if slack. James couldn’t stop looking at him though - at the way he panted, his face angry and pink with it, eyes intent on her, holding onto James like a lifeline. He...was almost as shocked as Graire looked.

Aleks recovered, though - he always recovered, he rolled with the punches in a way that James had always envied, because he could never do it.

“I _love him_. In spite of _you_ and _everything_ you tried to teach me, everything I learned from Elisa and Sergiu. Him - the life we built, the _crew_ I built. But it took...fuck, _years_ ,” He inhaled sharply, like he was going to break down, only to shore up strength to keep going, “Years for me to feel like that was okay and I can’t _ever_ forgive you for that. I hope that you’re as terrified of death as I was of life and that you _never_ find the peace you’re looking for, Mama. Maybe Elisa or Sergiu would have forgiven you - maybe I’m just bitter and petty, but you won’t find _absolution_ in me.”

Graire didn’t react for a long moment, just watched the way Aleks heaved, his eyes welling over so that he had to roughly scrape at his face with his fist until the tears stopped. His face was flushed and his eyes bloodshot and watery. James couldn’t help but squeeze his hand just as tight as he held on. Maybe Aleks was using him as a lifeline, but James was using him as one, too.

“I understand.” She finally nodded, “It was too much to ask.”  
“You think so?” Aleks snapped back, still panting, “No fucking shit.”

“Thank you for coming to see me, _moy volk._ ” She said simply, laid back on the bed, turning her head to look up at the ceiling.

“I want to leave now.” Aleks said and James didn’t say anything, just nodded and turned to the door.

Aleks followed close, nearly chest to back, but froze when James actually opened the door.

James looked back at him, hesitantly, and then squeezed his hand and reluctantly let go. Aleks needed to do what he needed to do.

With a frustrated look on his face, Aleks turned back to her. He walked to the bed in four long, rapid strides, threw himself into her open arms, pressed a kiss to her brow.

She inhaled, what James would never dare to call a sob from a woman like her, squeezed her eyes shut and hugged him tight.

“This isn’t forgiveness,” He said out loud, but whispered something in Russian that had them both swallowing, trying not to look as emotional as they both were. James looked away, felt like an intruder on a moment he would never be able to put into words. Not forgiveness, but something bittersweet and painful to even watch. He didn’t even _know_ the woman.

Aleks came back to him, found his hand again, and James shut the door behind them.

They spent half an hour in the parking lot, in the back seat of James’ car, wrapped around each other like they were the same person.

If Aleks cried silently into his shirt, shoulders shaking under James’ arms while James stared at the roof of the car and tried to figure out if he felt more hatred than pity for Graire or if it was the other way around, James would take the moment to his grave.

-

They were quiet on the ride home. Aleks played a different band, something angrier and louder that set James’ teeth on edge and made his head hurt, and they didn’t tangle their fingers together. Aleks stayed curled in on himself as best he could without pulling his legs up. If it weren’t for the short, bleached hair, he would look closer to the him from twenty-thirteen than the present him; hunched shoulders and a grim set to his lips and eyes that James hadn’t seen in a while.

He pulled into the house as night was setting, bathing the whole street in the dim tones of the street lights. They’d left the living room light on and the profile of Celia in the window, looking out, caught his attention before he pulled into the garage. Aleks was out of the car first, but James went about closing the garage up, checking his phone, making sure the car was locked and the guns returned to their proper places. When he went inside, Aleks had disappeared into James’ bedroom but James made sure the dogs and cat were fed and had water, let Ein and Mishka out to do their business in the back yard. He made a sandwich, ate it leaning against the counter, made another one and set it on a plate to take to Aleks in a bit, made sure the doors and windows were all locked and covered, that the alarms were set.

He got a text from Brett after he’d returned to the kitchen, letting him know that they’d got into the home’s security, had fucked up the footage and he and Aleks were clear on that end. He also asked if James wanted to look over their numbers before they got sent off to Geoff, and part of James wanted to say yes, _just in case_.

‘ _Nah_ ,’ he typed after a moment of thought, ‘ _I trust you_ ’

Brett didn’t respond for a few minutes, but when he did it was a thumbs up emoji. That was about the extent to which there would be any emotional response. James...had fucked up, he could see that - but the crew seemed willing to look past it, give him a second chance. He didn’t know how he would respond if, for some reason, Aleks were to be taken again but...he hoped that this would be a new point. He didn’t _want_ to be like Graire.

He put his phone in his pocket, grabbed a bottle of water and the plate, and let the dogs back in before he went to the bedroom.

Aleks had left the door open, but he still cleared his throat before he went in, just to give Aleks some warning.

Aleks had left his clothes in a pile on the ground just a few feet from the door - shirt, pants, boxers, socks, and shoes.

“Hey,” James said loudly, because it was too quiet, “Eat this.”

“Not hungry,” Aleks grumbled, soft.

“Do it, anyway,” James replied, setting the plate down on the table and tossing the bottle onto Aleks’ body.

“Don’t mother hen me,” Aleks turned onto his back, glared, and James just glared back.

“I’m gonna mama bird you if you don’t fucking eat this sandwich, fucker,” he threatened and that, at least, seemed to be enough to make Aleks stand up and angrily bite into the sandwich. James striped down while Aleks was being as obnoxiously as possible, tossing his shirt and pants onto the same pile as Aleks. He took his shoes off in their special, safe place by his dresser, though, and tossed his socks into the clothing pile.

“Boxers, too,” Aleks said as grumpily as he could, and James couldn’t help but snort as he striped his boxers off and left them with the rest of their clothes, too.

“Happy, now?” He asked, spreading his arms wide so Aleks could get an eyeful of his naked body.

“I don’t know what happiness is,” Aleks deadpanned back, running his eyes over James with an appreciative look on his face, half the sandwich still in hand.

“I make you sandwiches in bed, I take your dog out, save you from bad guys _and_ strip for you and you _don’t know what happiness is_ ,” James said, as offended as he could be, and that made Aleks giggle, even though he was trying his hardest to keep his frown.

“You force feed me sandwiches and give the most unsexy strip teases I’ve ever seen.”

“I am,” James pressed a hand to his chest, “The _most sexy piece of ass_ you will _ever_ see. You _love_ me!”

“I regret it.” Aleks said immediately, covering his face with his hand, “I regret it all. Leave, get out, go away,”

“No, that’s not what you want me to do,” James said gleefully, bounding onto the bed. Jumping and bouncing hurt his _everything_ , but it was worth it for the shriek Aleks let out, part of his sandwich nearly going flying before he fumbled it back into his hand, “You want me to stay with you _forever_ because you _love me_ ,”

“You love me, too!” Aleks shouted, like it was a competition that they were both losing, “Don’t even start with me, asshole, you said it _first_ ,”

“I did,” James admitted, “But you shouted it _to a nursing home_ ,”

Aleks stuffed his face with the last of the sandwich to avoid having to answer, scowling as he chewed and giving him double birds.

James laughed, loud and pleased, and then shoved his way into the sheets, the softness of the red material against his skin a welcome feeling after one night in the medical room bed while Anna observed Aleks and then two nights in the saferoom bed from paranoia.

Aleks finished chewing, swallowed loudly and then chugged the bottle of water until it was empty.

He tossed it toward the pile of clothes and laid back with an _oomph_ when he missed and the bottle landed and then rolled nearly two feet too far.

After a moment of the both of them laying in the bed, Aleks turned onto his side to face him and James did the same.

“I do.” Aleks said awkwardly, his lip twisting like he was biting the inside before he spoke, “Love you.”

“I know,” James shrugged, and it wasn’t so funny anymore, the way Aleks saying the words made him feel, “I knew.”

“Good.” Aleks hesitated and then huffed out a laugh, high-pitched and soft and familiar in a way that made James ache, “Wanna spoon me so I feel safe?”

“Do I make you feel safe?” James asked, unable to keep the grin off his face, but he was serious. Aleks had said a _lot_ to Graire, but this...this had struck James. Stuck with him.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Aleks joked, but his face was dead serious, too.

“Yeah,” James moved over and Aleks leaned over to turn out the lamp, the only light in the room so that they were bathed in darkness, and then turned until they slotted together, James’ arm around his waist, bending his other arm so they were both resting their heads on it. He buried his nose in Aleks’ hair, inhaled slow and deep, exhaled and felt his body relax. Aleks grabbed his hand, pressed against his stomach, and laced their fingers together. Fuck, this was...this was intimate.

“I’m glad we did this,” Aleks admitted into the darkness.

James didn’t answer, but he kissed Aleks’ shoulder, held him close. He wasn’t letting go again. He wasn’t scared anymore, either.

-

When he woke up, not alone but in a different position, his head resting on Aleks’ lap even though he didn’t remember moving, there were two origami rabbits resting on his bedside table. Messily folded, imperfect, made out of the paper from the notebook he kept in the drawer on the off chance he had something he needed to write down, but...probably the most disgustingly romantic thing he’d ever seen.

“I hate you,” He mumbled into Aleks’ lap, feeling fingers threading through his loose hair, gentle and slow.

“No, you don’t,” Aleks said back, and it was his turn to sound gleeful, “You _love me_ ,”

“Ugh, you’re sickening.” James sneered, turned his head to hide his grin. But...yeah. Okay, yeah. He did.

 


End file.
